Unacknowledged as of yet
by hardly loquacious
Summary: Various people reflect on Castle and Beckett and their relationship.
1. Lanie on Kate

This fic is based on something I said to Alamo Girl when she asked me about Castle. She told me that sounded like a fic. I agreed and suddenly it was all planned out in my head. The only thing I didn't realize that what I thought was going to be a two-shot, was actually much, much longer.

This fic is going to be a series of outside perspectives on Beckett and Castle and their relationship. Obviously it's Caskett all the way.

First up is Lanie.

As always, I own nothing

Unacknowledged as of yet….

xxxxx

Oh I know all about my friend's relationship with Richard Castle. You want details, you come to me. Other people, well, they think they know, but they don't have even close to the full story. Not even writer-boy himself has that yet. And let me tell you, it is a STO-RY. I first met Kate years ago, before she`d made Detective, back when she was just Officer Beckett, NYPD. But even then there was something about her. She stood out among the rank and file. This girl was goin' places, make no mistake about that. Everybody knew it, even Kate herself.

When it came to our friendship, I was the one to make the first move. Beckett's not unfriendly, but she can be a bit stand-offish, especially on the job, and especially back then. But I was pretty determined, and I wasn't about to let a little bit of aloofness stand in my way. I figured if I wanted our relationship to move beyond the pleasantries I'd have to push a bit. And she intrigued me, so I dragged her out for coffee, told her smart women needed to stick together in our jobs and that I wasn't takin' no for an answer. I remember Beckett just laughed. First time I'd ever heard the sound actually. And then weekly coffees turned into goin' out on Friday nights strutting our stuff. And boy was girlfriend good at that. After a couple a' drinks I realized, most of the people she worked with didn't know the first thing about Kate Beckett. Oh sure, they knew she was quick, smart and fearless, and that she had no trouble holding her own with the boys. But most people didn't see the drive, the compassion, the _fun_ that was buried deeper. They didn't see how she loved to reel in the boys and then keep 'em hanging. (And Kate Beckett had a sense of humour that rarely came out to play, not then at least.) They didn't know she loved the theatre, loved to read. Beckett was actually the one who got _me _reading Richard Castle's books. The only reason I had any idea who writer-boy even _was_ when we first met was thanks to Kate.

One afternoon over coffee she just sort of started raving about this book she'd just read that she hadn't been able to put down. How she loved getting caught up in the idealized mystery world, how she loved the characters, loved that the cops weren't idiots, loved that she could identify with the characters, and yes, that the sex scenes could be hotter 'en hell sometimes. I laughed at her enthusiasm and promised to give one a try. She mentioned casually that she was going to a book signing that weekend, said I was welcome to join her. I shrugged it off, told her waiting in line for hours just so that a probably smarmy rich boy writer could sign my book and send me a smile wasn't my ideal way of spending my precious weekend. Kate just shrugged and said she knew it probably wouldn't be fun, but it'd mean something to her. Then she got real interested in her coffee. And I knew.

There'd always been rumours circling Kate Beckett and why she'd become a cop. I'd heard hints of a personal tragedy, but out of respect had tried not to snoop, trying to wait until she'd felt comfortable enough to tell me herself. Which isn't to say I hadn't considered trying to pry it out of her more than once, but how do you start that conversation exactly? "So girl, I heard a story about you and a tragic past. Wanna share?" I'd also considered the traditional route of getting her smashed out of her mind and dragging it out of her. Vodka's been known to do wild and wonderful things after all.

Still, there is something to be said for not digging through your friend's life without their permission, so I'd waited (impatiently) for her to tell me. I figured this might be it. "Yeah," I asked her. "Any particular reason these books mean so much?"

Kate glanced at me, "I assume you've heard some of the rumours about me."

I grinned, "Tried not to listen. A woman's got to have her secrets. Keeps life exciting."

Kate laughed. "Yeah, well, this one's not so fun."

"I figured."

I watched Kate play with her coffee, then reach a hand up to play with her necklace.

"Sweetie, if it's uncomfortable for you, you don't have to tell me. I understand…"

"A few years ago my mother was murdered," Beckett said abruptly. "Killed in the street. No one has any idea why, or even who. Wasn't an assault, or a robbery. She didn't have any enemies that we know of. It was just out of the blue. I was at dinner with my Dad and she just never showed." Kate glanced at me then." "It's still unsolved. Random gang violence according to the official report."

"Oh honey…" I started. I'd suspected something like this, but hearing it from the woman herself was a whole different thing. And well, it explained a lot.

But Kate was in no mood for compassion. "Yeah, well, it sucks, but it happens right? That's life. Anyways, I got well, I got a little obsessed with finding her killer my first three years on the force. I'm still fighting my way out of it now, trying to put it behind me. And one of the things that's helped are Richard Castle's books. I know it sounds silly," she said with a self-conscious smile. "And I know that they're hardly great literature or anything, but they've helped take my mind off of things. I don't know. Derek Storm, well, he always solves the case. And I always know that the bad guys are going down. Besides, my Mom used to secretly love mystery novels. So yeah, I know they're a bit of guilty pleasure, but still..."

"And now you want to go see this writer," I added.

"Yeah," Kate agreed. "I've never really gotten a chance before. I mean, I don't expect anything earth-shattering. Actually, I don't expect much at all. By all accounts he's a bit of a playboy man-child, but…"

"But, it'll mean something to you."

"Yeah."

Well this was a whole other thing then. And no way was I letting her go alone if she wanted company. "If you want company Beckett you know I'll go."

"No, no." Kate said with a laugh. "I mean, only if you want to for you. I'm perfectly fine going by myself. I just thought it was a good time… Well, I meant to tell you ages ago Lanie."

"You don't have to explain Kate," I told her.

"No. I know that." Kate agreed. "But I want to. I know I wasn't the friendliest when we first met, but I was still trying to solve it, or rather, trying to stop solving it. And I didn't always… I mean…"

But I shook off her apology. No wonder she'd been a bit cold. Who could blame her? "Girl, don't you even worry about it."

"Yeah. But I wanted to say thanks. For you know, not giving up on me. It can't have been easy. And I wanted you to know that I appreciate it. And it really helped," Kate told me sincerely.

And then the coffee run started to get a little more emotional than I'd ever expected. "Hey, what are girlfriends for?" I told her. "Now stop before my mascara starts running."

And just like that I knew I had a best friend.

Kate sent me a smile and turned her attention back to her coffee.

"This mean you appreciate it enough to double with me and Ben next weekend?" I asked suddenly, recognizing my advantage.

"Lanie…" Kate said exasperatedly.

"Oh, come on! He's got a friend and we're going to that new club they just opened. The one that's supposed to be impossible to get in."

"Then how would we be getting in?" Kate asks sensibly.

"Ben knows the owner," I explained.

"Ah."

"Don't make me drag you, 'cause I will." It'd been ages since we'd last gone out. We were due for a good time.

"Fine," Kate said with a sigh.

The rest of the afternoon was spent extolling Ben and his friend Jack's many virtues. I didn't talk to Beckett again until the next Monday when I called her up to see how it'd gone. She'd been happy. Apparently Richard Castle had been charming. He'd signed her book with a smile and a flourish and made her feel like all his attention was on her. At least for thirty seconds. Plus, she said, he'd read well and was as handsome as in his photograph on the dust jacket. So Kate was pleased with how she'd spent her weekend. Her first encounter with Richard Castle had been a success.

Unfortunately their second encounter hadn't been anywhere near as smooth. I was in the morgue examining a body when the doors slammed open behind me, and the speedy click of heels stormed in. "He's insufferable!" Beckett yelled. "Insufferable and immature and annoying! He pokes his nose into everything. He has no sense of boundaries and he won't do a thing I tell him! How am I going to deal with working with him all day long, following me around? Watching me?"

"Whoa! Slow down girl. Who's watching you?" I asked.

"Richard Castle!" she spat out.

"Castle?" I asked confused but also amused, not that I'd let it show just yet. I knew he'd been around for a case, but that had ended the day before. "Why would…"

"Because he's apparently decided I'm the _inspiration_ for the main character in his next book that's why! And apparently he's called his good friend the _mayor_ and told him he needs to follow me around all day to do research," Kate told me furiously.

I couldn't believe it. I mean, I'd heard Kate complain about the writer before, but I'd figured a good part of that was because A) she didn't want quite all of her illusions about her favourite writer destroyed and B) because she also refused to be another notch on his belt, or on his bedpost, or however he kept score. Part of me didn't blame her, but part of me wondered why she _hadn't_ just jumped him. The man looked like he knew his way around the bedroom, and a girl could do a hell of a lot worse. From what I'd heard he'd certainly been interested.

Very interested actually, from the sounds of it. Hey, the key to having good information is knowing who to get the juiciest news from. And Esposito was one hell of a gossip when the mood struck. Besides, him being a detective and all meant he noticed things. Still, this was by far the best news I'd heard all week. "Sweetie, what is _wrong _with you? That sounds fabulous!" I told her.

"Lanie," Kate cried temporarily shocked. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I heard that a famous writer, a writer that you love I might add, finds you so fascinating that the wants to base his book on you. Tell me again why this is a bad thing?"

"Did you not hear the part about him being basically a child who won't sit still?"

"Oh, I heard it," I told her with a grin. "And you can't honestly expect me to believe that a part of you doesn't enjoy it."

"Enjoy it? I think you need to get out of here. The chemicals have gone to your head."

But while Beckett may have been in denial I certainly wasn't going to let her stay that way. "_Honey_, The man wants to base a character after you. Are you honestly trying to tell me that at least a part of you isn't flattered in the slightest?"

"Okay, maybe a little," she admitted. "A very small part."

"Uh huh," I told her knowingly.

"But, that doesn't mean that I want someone tagging after me for weeks, or even months taking notes."

"Oh please," I told her rolling my eyes. "You know you love it."

"_What?_"

Oh she sounded good and shocked now. This was going to be _fun. _ "That's right Beckett. I said it. Part of you loves having him around." Kate opened her moth to say something, but I cut her off before she could. "Whether you admit it to yourself or not, he's fun. We both know it's true. And he challenges you, and he thinks outside the box. And yes, okay, maybe he acts like a five year old sometimes, but part of you is still attracted to him."

"I am _not_…"

"I didn't mean like _that_. I'm 'a let you deny that, at least for today. Cause honey, are you blind? That man's got a lot goin' for him is all I'm sayin'." I tried not to laugh when Kate rolled her eyes and tried to hide her blush. "No. I meant that you're attracted to his mind. He's your favourite author, girl. Your _favourite_ author. Even if we allow that part of that is thanks to your Mom you gotta admit an even bigger part is because you just plain like how he writes, how he thinks. You like how his mind works. So all I'm sayin' is give him a chance. You don't have to jump into bed with him if you don't want to, and yeah, okay, he's certainly not perfect, but he's not all bad is he?"

Kate acknowledged that with a shrug of her shoulder.

I ploughed on, figuring it was the best I was going to get. "So maybe keep an open mind about him. At least don't shoot him, or ignore him out of spite just on principle would you? Yeah, it's maybe not ideal, and it's not what you signed up for. But it's not a catastrophe either. And besides, it's not like there's a thing you can do about it, so why not make the best of it?"

Kate sighed, "I'll think about it," she said. "As long as he sits down and shuts up when I tell him to, and he stops wandering around after killers and almost getting himself shot."

I grinned, "Keep dreaming Detective. Besides, I thought you'd have been all for him getting shot. It'd solve your problem."

"Until I had to call his daughter," Kate pointed out wryly.

"His daughter?" I asked surprised. Esposito hadn't mentioned anything about a daughter.

Kate nodded, distracted. "Yeah, Alexis. I met her after I arrested him, "She told me with a grin. "She seemed sensible at least."

"Well, that's nice," I told her, still a bit surprised that Castle had a daughter. "So clearly he's capable of some responsibility."

"Or it's his daughter raising him." I raised an eyebrow. "Alright, he gets one more chance Lanie. But if he goes through my files again without asking, or if he chases after a suspect unarmed and without my permission, hell, if he even breathes on a witness the wrong way I'm shooting him myself."

I knew it was the best I'd get out of her. The woman was stubborn enough to give a mule lessons sometimes. "Fair enough."

"And I still don't like it," Kate added as an afterthought.

"Sure you don't," I agreed easily.

"Lanie…"

"What? I'm agreeing with you."

Kate just raised her eyebrows and sighed. "Fine. Well, thanks for talking me down. I'll leave you to your corpse. I'm off home to mentally prepare."

"See you later," I told her with a grin.

I shook my head as she left. Kate Beckett faced with a man she couldn't just order away, and one who'd literally be spending his days trying to get inside her head. He was definitely already attracted to her. Any fool could see it. And for all her bluster and her insistence, well, I knew Kate Beckett, and there was nothing she liked better than a good fight.

And so I watched them. And it was almost funny. Castle would hover around her like a fly circling a lamp, and then every so often he'd get too close and almost get zapped. But I will give him this, he never did give up. And he managed to get her engaged. Soon she was snarking back at him on a regular basis, giving as good as she got. He teased, she shot him down, he invaded her personal space, she pushed him out. It worked for them.

And Kate started to enjoy herself.

Not that she ever admitted it, and I knew better than to actually ask, but you could tell.

Then one day I got the shock of my life. I was meeting Beckett for lunch one day and I asked about Castle. She gave one of her usual answers, some sort of mild put down accompanied by a slight shrug of her shoulders and an ironic tilt of her head. But her eyes were smiling and the corners of her mouth were tilted up, so it was obvious the man hadn't done anything to genuinely irritate her in the last couple of hours.

So I smiled back, figuring I could get away with a snarky response, "So no change then? He's still pestering his inspiration for information?"

To my surprise Kate's grin turned softer. "Yeah. Well, sort of," she admitted.

Of my curiosity was piqued by _that_. "Honey, you want to share with the class? Don't tell me Castle's actually gone and gotten _subtle_."

Kate laughed, "Well, no not exactly. Not really anyways," she told me.

"Well that's good," I told her. "I'm not sure I'd like him near as well."

Kate grinned again, and took a bite of her salad. "I told him about my mother," she admitted.

The French fry I'd been planning on eating paused midway to my mouth. _What?_ She'd told him about her mother. _Willingly?_ And she had the nerve to sit there like nothing had happened. I saw Beckett glance at me quickly as she pretended to be engrossed in something out the window. Ah, so not quite so calm about this whole thing as she was pretending. "What'd he say?" I asked her, figuring I'd better ease into this, and that demanding a minute-by-minute account of the conversation was a really _bad _idea.

She shrugged, "He didn't say much actually. He'd already guessed that I'd lost someone. Figured it was my father because of the watch. I corrected him, after we finished the case of course."

"Of course," because heaven forbid anything get in the way of work for even five minutes.

"He was really pretty good about it. He asked the appropriate questions, you know, just about the facts. About whether or not her killer had ever been found. He wasn't horribly invasive about it at all. Didn't make any stupid jokes, or try to play it off. He was serious, almost nice."

"Then what happened?" I asked her.

"Then we said goodnight. And I left. Well, I said goodnight. He said 'Until tomorrow.' Apparently it's more hopeful."

I'll bet. I thought to myself. And I'll bet he watched her walk away with those big eyes of his, like he wanted to just gather her up into a hug. I'd seen the way he'd watched her sometimes, and you could tell he was aching to get closer to her. It was why he hovered. She opened up and he didn't try and push? Well that was saying something. Writer-boy was getting better at this. "You're not sorry you told him?" I asked her to double check.

Kate glanced back at me then, "No. No, I'm actually not Lanie. I thought maybe I would be, but, no. Somehow I think I'm okay with it. Why, you think I shouldn't have?"

"Sweetie, you know I'm all for you putting yourself out there a little more. If you feel comfortable telling Castle about your Mom I think that's great."

"Well, I mean, everybody else at the station knows. It was bound to come up anyways."

I almost grinned at Beckett's attempt to justify her actions. She couldn't have _possibly _told him because she wanted him to know. Of course not. "I still think it's nice that you wanted to tell him."

"Yeah, well, I guess it proves that Castle's not always a six-year-old. He's capable of something else for a couple of minutes at least," Kate said with a smirk.

"Yeah, there is that."

I could see that Kate wanted to change the subject, so I let her. But I kept circling around it in the back of my mind. She'd told him about her mother. This was huge. Writer boy was getting closer than I'd ever expected. I figured he'd find out about Joanna Beckett eventually, but I'd never expected Kate to just _tell him_. Not willingly at least. I know I was the one who was basically gunning for them to get it on, but this was different, surprising. This was an overture of friendship. A real one, from Kate Beckett. After all, I knew we were really friends when she told _me _about her mother. And now she'd told writer-boy. Maybe it was inevitable given the nature of her job, and the amount of time they spent together, but Castle wasn't just a pain in the ass consultant anymore.

I kept watching them of course. Well, that and had Esposito give me the highlights when I wasn't around. Things were going well. They went to a fancy party, he bought her a _gorgeous _dress. She played poker at his house, she started dropping by there for meals. Sure she still complained about the name he'd given her character, or the cover art. And sure the temporary return of his vapid ex-wife wasn't exactly ideal. But I figured it would only be a matter of time before one of them just planted one on the other.

But then tragedy struck. And no, I'm not talking about Agent Sorrenson's shooting, although that wasn't good. I wasn't thrilled about his return, but I hadn't wanted him to get shot. I mean, there was nothing actually _wrong_ with him, and he was a good guy and all. Beckett could do a lot worse. But he never quite seemed to _get _her. I can't explain it.

But no, the real crisis happened after Will was on the road to recovery. Mid-afternoon, when I was expecting Kate to still be at the hospital I got a phone call.

"Lanie?" I heard.

"Beckett?" I asked shocked. It was clear she was upset. My first thought was that there'd been some sort of complications after Will's surgery. "Is something wrong? Is it Will? Is he alright?"

I heard a sniff. "No, no he's fine. It's not that. It's Castle. Do you think you could come over later?"

"What'd he do to you?" I asked angry. I'd trusted him! And so had she. And he'd made her cry. Jerk better not set foot in my morgue anytime soon.

"Not over the phone," Beckett replied. "I can't… I don't want to…"

Whatever it was it was _not _good. "I'm on my way." I told her.

"Oh, well, you didn't have to come right this second. I mean if you're busy..." I heard her trail off followed by another sniff.

"I'm 'a pretend I didn't just hear that," I told her.

Then I heard the hint of a grin in her voice, "Thanks Lanie."

"Anytime."

And so I rushed over to her apartment. Found her curled up on her couch in sweats and a blanket. And then the whole story came out. How Castle'd looked into her mother's case without her permission. After she'd told him what had happened the last time she'd gone down that road. After she'd told him that she never wanted to go down that road again. And maybe worst of all (at least from my perspective), after she'd told him if he did it they were through.

I didn't know what to say. I just put an arm around her shoulders and let her talk.

"I trusted him Lanie," she told me quietly. "I never shoulda done that. That was stupid. I shoulda known it was all just for his damn book."

Angry as I was at writer-boy I doubted that was true. It'd stopped being just about the book a while ago, on both sides. But then I realized the worst part. Kate caught up in her mother's unsolved murder again and this time she wouldn't even be able to turn to Derek Storm for comfort. I felt some serious rage building up in my chest towards writer-boy. "Sweetie, it wasn't stupid," I told her. "You trusted him, hell, we all did. None of us could have predicted he'd do this to you."

"Yeah," Kate said with a cynical laugh. "Some cops we are."

"Technically I'm not a cop," I couldn't help pointing out. That got a real smile from Beckett. A little one, but it was there. "What're you gonna do?" I asked her.

"I called the Captain, told him I couldn't work with Castle anymore. Told him we'd had a falling out and Castle had gone too far and I'd already told him not to show up on Monday."

"What'd Montgomery say?" I asked her.

"He said fine," Beckett replied. "I think he was disappointed about the possibility of an unhappy commissioner, but he didn't fight me on it."

"And the mayor?" I couldn't help asking.

"That's Castle's problem," Kate told me with a shrug. "Least he can do now is deal with _Bob_. Plus he didn't try and fight me when I told him if he showed up at my desk again, I'd shoot him."

I remember thinking at the time that it was interesting that Castle hadn't fought her. But honestly most of my attention had been on Beckett at that point. "Can I do anything?" I asked her. "Have you eaten? You want me to grab snacks, or maybe a movie? Slip some poison into Castle's morning coffee?"

Kate laughed, "I wouldn't mind delivery and a stupid movie if you've got the time."

"I think I could squeeze you in," I told her.

"Thanks Lanie."

"That's what I'm here for."

And that had seemed like the end of it. Writer boy was an ass, he crossed a line, she tossed him to the curb. The end.

But not quite.

He'd already finished _Heat Wave_. And that meant publicity photos at the station, and interviews. And that meant Beckett and Castle had to meet.

Kate of course pretended not to care. She sailed around the station like it was just another day, all the while taking out her aggression on the woman who was interviewing her (not that I blamed her for that. That woman was irritating as all hell, but still). And ever the opportunist, Castle saw his opening and weaseled his way back into her life.

At first I was planning on giving him the cold shoulder. Then I saw how upset he was that he'd hurt her and how much the man genuinely wanted back in her life. After that he told me what he'd found about her mother's killer. And I realized that in all her anger and her pain Beckett hadn't told me the whole story. And I admit I thawed a little towards writer-boy that day. Not too much though. After all, the next thing I knew the hearse was taken hostage, we were held at gunpoint and the body was stolen so I didn't really have a chance to get all the details.

And because of it Castle got a temporary reprieve. Beckett agreed to let him shadow her for one case and then he was gone. It wasn't much, but it was just the slightest chink in her armour.

Watchin' the pair of them in the morgue during the case it looked like nothing much had changed. She was a bit cooler towards him, a bit more likely to shut him down, he was a bit more cautious. But they were still them. I wondered if maybe, just maybe Beckett'd let him stay for good. Then I heard from Esposito that one Richard Castle was seen leaving the precinct after the case was closed looking like someone had stolen his puppy. And that Beckett was still working on paperwork.

I knew I was gonna miss him. Sure he made a mistake and all, and she had every right to chuck him out, but part of me couldn't help thinking it was a damn shame.

So I was shocked when I got a call from Kate late that evening.

"Hello," I said as I ran to grab the phone.

I recognized Beckett's voice on the other end. "Hey Lanie, is this a bad time?"

"Nah," I told her. "You just caught me on my way in the door. What's up?"

She took a breath. "I told him he could come back."

I sank down on my couch, not needing to as who 'he' was. "Did you now?" I asked highly amused.

I could practically hear Kate getting defensive down the phone line. "Yeah, well, he actually _apologized_ so…"

"Wait, hold up." I interrupted. "Richard Castle apologized to you?"

"Yeah," Kate said softly. "And I think he meant it. I mean, I was gonna cut him out, but then, I don't know Lanie… He said something earlier when we were talking about the case, about people doing the wrong things for the right reasons. And then when he came back and apologized sincerely, because he thought _I_ deserved it. It was like he'd realized what he'd done, and he understood why I wanted him gone, and he respected that… I guess… I guess I thought I'd give him a chance to redeem himself."

Huh. Castle'd gone and gotten himself well and truly under her skin. I had not seen this coming. "Whatever you want's fine with me Beckett," I told her.

"Yeah, well… I guess I figured I'd better give you a heads up so you didn't stick a scalpel in him next time we were down at the morgue."

"Hey, I make no promises," I told her. "He gets annoying I may have to take matters into my own hands."

"Fair enough," Kate said with a laugh.

"You decided what you're gonna do about your Mom's case?" I asked tentatively. I admitted I was curious about what writer-boy had found myself.

"I can't think about that right now," Kate said quickly.

"Okay," I told her easily. Then I paused, "Hey sweetie?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it's gonna take time for you to forgive, but I think this might be a good thing."

"Me too," she'd said softly. "Well, I guess I should let you go seeing as you just walked in the door. I just wanted to keep you up to speed."

"You know I always appreciate the gossip."

"Lanie…" I heard the warning in my friend's voice.

"Not that this is gossip of course," I added quickly. Only person I'd 'a told was Esposito, and he'd figure it out for himself the next morning when the writer showed up.

"Goodnight Lanie."

"Night Kate."

And so Castle was back. He'd managed to get his foot back in the door and then had just kept squirming until the rest of him followed. Not that Beckett really put up that much of a fight. And soon things were back to normal. Sure, he may have walked a little more softly around her than usual for a few days, but within a couple of weeks they were as close as ever. Maybe even closer, it's hard to say. And without realizing it Beckett started letting herself have a bit more fun again. Started teasing him a bit, flirting. Not that she'd ever admit to that either.

And she certainly wouldn't admit that she liked him.

Even after she saw him as the responsible dad with his daughter. Not even after she told me at length about how Castle had just dropped everything when he heard Alexis was in trouble. How it was so surprising that a man as immature as he could be could also be such a great father. Then I got to hear more about how he doted on his daughter. About how responsible Alexis was, how different she was from the elder Castle. Kate liked that the teenage girl seemed to look up to her and want to impress her when she was doing her internship at the station. Hell she just flat out liked his family.

I honestly don't think she noticed how much she talked about him. How big a part of her life he'd become.

And then came Kyra. Kyra Blaine, Castle's ex-love. The woman who'd broken his heart (or so I hear). And then girlfriend was _jealous_. But of course that was just one more thing she'd never admit. Hell, she'd deny it to the moon and back. Said any concern she felt was purely professional, about the case. And to her credit she did a good job of hiding the jealousy, but she wasn't perfect. And every so often it slipped out for just a minute. I think more than anything else Kate was thrown by the fact that Kyra was so very different than all of his other women. This one had meant something and she hadn't been some vapid, catty airhead. Kyra Blaine had substance.

Just like Kate Beckett did.

And I figured maybe, just maybe, that'd give the pair of them the push they both needed to finally get over themselves and just go for it. To finally take that chance.

But then, fate in the form of Beckett's mother's murder intervened, yet again.

I'd gotten the forensic details from Castle months before, just so I could keep my eye out in case anything showed up. And the minute I saw that mobster's body I just knew. But I couldn't tell her. Not yet. Just in case I was wrong. I knew Castle suspected something was up, but I had to be perfectly sure before I said anything.

And of course Kate reacted just like I knew she would. She shut down, and then she got angry, and then she ran.

I glanced at Castle and I could see the worry, and the guilt, guilt that this was somehow his fault. But we let her go. We had to. This was one decision she had to make on her own. We just had to wait, and worry.

And to her credit she came back. She rallied and she came back strong and she came back determined.

I watched from the sidelines as she came up with a plan to catch the man who'd murdered her mother. I saw how Castle had stood by her every step of the way. How he offered whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. And Kate let him. She let him help her. I don't know if anyone else realized at the time what that meant, but I did.

She'd let him in.

And briefly, for a little while, things looked good. But that changed in an instant. I wasn't there when Kate shot the hit man responsible for her mother's death to save Castle. I didn't see her doing CPR, trying to keep her only link to her mother's real killer alive. But I heard stories. I heard stories of a broken Kate Beckett who burst into tears in the middle of the station with Castle's arm around her.

I had no idea what would happen next. Nobody would blame her for ending their partnership now. Not even Castle. And even if she didn't end it outright I figured she'd at least pull back. And it'd take some time before she was alright again.

I walked over to the station from the morgue after filing my report on the bastard's death. I knew she'd still be there. She always was after cases like this. I figured I'd have to drag her home, maybe get some ice cream and some alcohol in her and let her grieve.

But when I made it to the bullpen I got the surprise of my life. Yes, Kate Beckett was still at her desk, but she wasn't alone. She was sitting with one Richard Castle, and between them they had what looked like a pile of take-out big enough to feed ten. But that wasn't what was really surprising.

She was laughing. And so was he. Not loudly by any means. But they were chuckling over some shared joke. I had no idea what they were saying, but based on their body language it looked like they were comforting each other. And then I realized, it wasn't me she needed right now. She wanted him.

And they'd get through this together.

As I walked away I realized something else; it wasn't a question of "if" they got together anymore, it was when.

Because Kate Beckett liked having Castle around. Hell, she wanted him.

I just don't think it's occurred to her yet, that she might want him forever.

xxxxx

TBC


	2. Ryan on Beckett

Okay guys, here it is, chapter 2. And can I just say a quick thanks to all my reviewers? Because the response to the first chapter has been a bit overwhelming. Whenever I take a break from this fandom and then come back I always forget how supportive you guys are(not that other fandoms aren't obviously, but it's not the same). You guys are the best and you make my day. So thanks to everyone who reviewed. I can thank people individually who sign in, but to everyone else, thanks as well. It's appreciated.

But without further ado, let's get on to Detective Ryan. Oh, and no worries, these aren't all going to be about Kate. But these two were the ones I wanted to do first.

xxxxx

I remember the first day I met her. I'd just made detective, gotten transferred to the 12th. Homicide. I'd gotten a lot of slaps on the back from my old colleagues, and heard more than a few stories. Stories about this tough as nails lady Detective who ate various parts of the male anatomy for breakfast, when she wasn't ordering them around and giving them menial labour that is. I heard tales of the last young guy who worked with her transferring out to pursue a monastic life. And the one before that mysteriously disappearing after he accidentally brushed up against her in the hall. There was talk of a third, but the stories about him seemed to consist of the men shaking their heads and shuddering. If even half the stories were true then Beckett musta been some sorta freaky hybrid of Medusa, a dominatrix, Cleopatra, and an overweight German gym teacher.

'Course I wasn't born yesterday on a turnip truck. I knew what they were doing. Exaggeration and intimidation is practically a prerequisite of bein' a cop. I knew when I finally met her chances were high that Beckett was gonna turn out to be a perfectly normal woman. Probably.

I'm not gonna lie and say I wasn't nervous first day I walked into the 12th. I was. I met briefly with Captain Montgomery and then Esposito started showing me around, which was nice. As he was giving me the tour I couldn't help asking, "So, the stories about Detective Beckett true?"

Esposito glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, "What you mean that she eats a man everyday for breakfast before her morning run? Nah. She's usually pretty normal." Then he paused, "Unless ya screw up of course," he added with a grin.

I smirked. Great. Very reassuring.

Before I could say anything else we were already at the bullpen, "Yo Beckett!" Esposito called across the room. "New guy's here!"

I turned in the direction of the shout and noticed a woman at a desk turn around. She grinned. "New guy huh?" she asked with a smirk. She walked over holding out a hand, "Beckett."

I shook it. She certainly didn't _look_ anything like I'd expected. For one, she was drop dead gorgeous. Not that that mattered, but still… "Ryan," I said with a smile.

"I figured," she replied. "Nice to have you. And don't worry about hazing or anything, we don't do that here, do we Esposito?" she asked the other man with a grin.

"Oh, _absolutely_ not," Esposito agreed readily, with exaggerated honesty.

"That's what I figured," I told them easily. Everyone knew that hazing was time-honoured tradition. I was just hoping not to end up handcuffed somewhere before the end of the week.

Beckett smirked slightly. "Esposito show you around?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, just finishing," I told her.

"Alright, well I'll let you get settled. Holler if you need anything. It was nice to meet you," she told me.

I nodded, thanked Esposito and sat down at my desk. The back of my chair promptly fell off. I glanced up, somewhat sheepishly. Everyone in the bullpen seemed to be laughing except for the other two detectives. Suddenly Beckett looked up, amusement in her eyes. "Huh, looks like your chair's faulty. It's never done that before has it Esposito?"

"Not that I know of," Esposito admitted. "But there's a first time for everything."

"I wonder what could have _possibly_ happened to it…" Beckett asked.

"Well, if I had to guess," I told her, examining the back. "It looks like the knob that was holding the back on came loose. Either that or someone unscrewed it."

"Huh," she admitted. "What're the chances of that you think Esposito?"

The other man shrugged, "Dunno. Math was never my strong subject."

"What do you think Ryan?" Beckett asked me.

"That the knob unscrews on its own." When she nodded I pretended to consider it, "Well, in general? Probably pretty slim. Today? I'd say it's almost a certainty."

Beckett smiled then. "You need a screwdriver or something to fix that?" she asked lazily.

"Nah," I told her, reaching in my pocket. "Swiss army knife." I told her.

"Always be prepared?" she asked.

"I try to be," I admitted.

Beckett nodded and sent me a smile. I couldn't help but feel like I'd passed some sort of a test.

Beckett went back to whatever she was doing, "Hey Esposito?" she called. "Those phone records I asked for come in yet?"

"Nah," he replied. "And I'm still going through surveillance footage, nothing sticks out."

"Course it doesn't," she muttered, before going back to work. "Call the superintendant; find out if he noticed anything odd in the stairwell the days before the murder."

"You think the perp found a way to sneak in and avoid the cameras?" Esposito asked.

"It's worth a call," Beckett told him.

"Alright," Esposito agreed, picking up his phone.

Based on the way the two interacted I figured the rumours about the woman's ability to order men around probably weren't exaggerated. But she also didn't look like she was cruel about it. I had a feeling I was going to like it here. I stood up and tested the back of my chair. Looks like it was working again. Still, I sat down pretty cautiously just to be sure. Yup, it was good.

"Get that chair fixed Ryan?" Beckett asked me.

I looked up. She was right in front of my desk. "Think so," I told her.

"Good," she nodded. "Here, I brought you coffee."

I noticed the two mugs in her hands for the first time. She must have seen my hesitation because she grinned. "You can even pick which one if you want," she told me.

I smiled sheepishly before grabbing the one in her left hand. "Thanks," I told her, taking a cautious sip. The coffee was pretty bad, but then it always was. I was pretty sure it wasn't tampered with.

"You're welcome," she told me. "But don't get used to it. It's only because it's your first day."

"Still, thanks."

She shrugged, "After you get settled why don't you ask Esposito to get you caught up to speed on the case and help him with the security footage."

"Sure," I agreed, knowing it hadn't really been a question. Kate Beckett was definitely in charge, but she was hardly the un-pleasable, man-hating, control freak of the horror stories. And even though she hadn't asked me to, I found myself wanting to prove myself to her anyways.

"And Ryan?" she added.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Welcome to the 12th," she told me.

I just grinned. And just like that I knew I was gonna like it there.

xxxxx

No one could accuse Beckett of being easy. But she was smart, and fair, and she was dedicated to her job. And it was obvious that she'd earned the respect of just about everyone who worked in the station with her. Kate Beckett was absolutely in charge of her world. Everyone and everything had its place. Then came Castle.

I'll never forget that first case. When Beckett recognized that first crime scene as one out of Castle's books and started goin' on about the pscyho I was impressed. Of course, then she hauled in that box of books of hers, all by Richard Castle, that she wanted everyone to read. I can't say I was thrilled, but I figured I'd give 'em a try. And after all, it's never a bad idea to try and get on the boss' good side. Besides what could it hurt.

I flipped through the first few pages, past the "From the library of Katherine Beckett" sticker and started reading. And then I got hooked. I understood what Kate meant when she asked Esposito about being curious about how people could do things like that to others; how they could do the things we saw every day. I could see why she liked the damn books so much. They were so easy to get lost in, to try and figure out who the killer was. And Richard Castle`s novels were pure entertainment. Even though I'd only started reading them for the case, I realized that I didn't want to stop when the case was over.

Besides, I figured if Castle was gonna be sticking around indefinitely it wasn't the worst idea in the world to have read a few of the man's books. Even if it was just out of politeness

Because Castle was sticking around. And that meant I had a front row seat to a pretty entertaining show. I got to watch the first man I'd ever met that could fluster Kate Beckett. And I got to watch him try to do it almost every day. Not that he got to her every day of course, and she was almost as good at pushing his buttons as he was at pushing hers. It wasn't long before Esposito and I'd organized a betting pool on the two of them. Bets ranged from date of first physical injury Beckett chose to inflict, to date of first kiss to date that she just got fed up and Castle disappeared.

I`d never really known anyone famous before. And I certainly hadn`t ever expected to meet Richard Castle on the job. But Beckett fascinated the man, and he had connections, so just like that a famous novelist became part of my life. And his books were actually not too bad.

Although he certainly didn't seem to care that _I_ was a fan. It was obvious that Richard Castle only had eyes for one Detective. And it wasn't me or Esposito.

Didn't stop me from wanting to read his books though. I finished the first one pretty quickly. I had the good sense to wait until Castle wasn't there to bring it up with Beckett though.

I dropped it off on her desk one day when she was finishing up her paperwork. "Figured I should give this back," I told her. "Started reading it in the middle of the copycat case then I got a little hooked. Hope you don't mind that I kept it. That part where the guy got killed in the canning plant and then packaged in a crate of peaches? That was pretty cool."

Beckett smiled, "I always liked the chase scene through the machinery myself," she admitted. "But don't tell Castle that," she added quickly.

"Nah," I agreed easily. "More fun this way." If she didn`t want the writer to know how big a fan she was that was her call. I couldn`t blame her; the man would probably tease her until she killed him. Huh, maybe I should tell him, and then put money down on Castle disappearing within the week…

Beckett, oblivious to my thoughts, shot me a conspirator's smile. "Exactly. What Castle doesn`t know…"

"Won`t hurt you," I added. When she glared I changed the subject, "Well, anyways, sorry I had your book so long."

"S'Okay. I actually didn't really notice," she told me as she went back to her paperwork. Seconds later she looked up. "Hey Ryan?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"If you like 'em, well, I mean… I already own them all so if you wanted to borrow the next one…" she trailed off.

I smiled, "Sure," I agreed. "Thanks."

"No problem," she told me. And this time she actually did go back to her paperwork.

And just like that I started borrowing all of her Derek Storm books. And then every couple of weeks, after we made sure that Castle wasn't around we'd grab coffee, get some mindless paperwork and talk about them. It was our thing. Esposito and I played Playstation, Beckett and I, well we talked books.

Neither of us told anyone, not because we were ashamed, but because it never came up. And because I knew Beckett didn't want to give Castle the satisfaction of finding out how big a fan she was. Something he was still trying to tease out of her. I could have tipped him off, but I never did. It was too much fun watching him like a 12-year-old boy, trying to get the girl he liked to pay him a compliment. Course, it wasn't until they'd already been working together for a few months that I realized how big a fan she was myself.

Early that morning Beckett had dropped off "Any Port in a Storm" on my desk. I'd finished "Stormy Weather," the day before and this was the next in the series. She'd somehow gotten to know my reading schedule so well that she never even needed to ask when I was ready for the next one. She just dropped it off. I shot her a grin and went back to work, impatient for that evening when I'd get the chance to start it. I'd heard that this one featured some pretty awesome murder scenes at the docks.

The book certainly surprised me, but not in the way I'd been expecting. I flipped open the front cover, barely glancing at the usual sticker indicating who the owner was. To my surprise it wasn't the only thing decorating the flyleaf. Opposite the sticker I read, "To Kate, May you love this book as much as all the others." It was signed Richard Castle. I paused, surprised. She'd gotten a book _signed_? That indicated a whole other level of dedication above and beyond just buying all his books. I checked the publication date. It was a first edition, meaning she'd probably gotten it pretty recently after the book had been released. And it'd been released eight years ago.

I grinned. Turns out Beckett and Castle had met before, he just didn't know it. I was absolutely certain about that. If the writer knew she'd attended a book signing there was no way in hell he wouldn't have teased her endlessly about it. I was somewhat surprised about Beckett though. I'd never pegged her as the type to do something so frivolous as attend a book signing. After all, I bet it was a bit of a wait to get a signature from someone as famous as Richard Castle, even eight years ago.

It made me wonder what the woman truly thought of the writer. It was clear these books meant a hell of a lot. I was actually surprised she'd leant this one to me given the signature. Maybe she'd forgotten about it, or maybe she'd figured I wouldn't notice. I didn't know. But it made me curious. After all, I'd already figured that at least half of the hostility she showed the writer was an act, some sort of self-preservation she'd decided was necessary. But now I wanted to know how she really felt about her favourite writer following her around. Wonder if part of her was upset he didn't remember her. Most of her probably wasn't, because then the man'd know how big a fan she was. But a part of her may have been just a little hurt, even if she'd never acknowledge the fact.

I smiled to myself, stupidly pleased that I'd figured something out about Kate Beckett that no one else knew.

I made doubly sure that the bullpen was empty when I finally did give the book back. Kate barely glanced at me. "What'd you think?" she asked.

"It was interesting," I told her. "Very interesting. I'm surprised you lend this one out," I added nonchalantly.

"What?" Beckett asked confused. "Why would I…" and then her face froze. I almost laughed.

And then she started to try and explain, "Okay, so, what happened was…"

But I cut her off. "You don't have to explain Beckett," I told her. She glanced at me. "You think you're the only one who likes knowing something Castle doesn't?" I asked.

"You're not gonna tell him?" she double-checked, and I was surprised at the vulnerability on her face. I had wanted to pry a bit, but something told me not to. That this was about more than just toying with Richard Castle. So I shut up.

"Nah," I told her. "What happens in book club stays in book club."

Kate snorted. "Thanks Ryan."

"No problem. You're the one lending me all the books, it's the least I can do." I paused, "So that scene with the fishhook? That was awesome."

Beckett laughed and I pulled up a chair.

And the next day, when I heard Castle teasing her about being a superfan and watched her roll her eyes and verbally take him out at the knees, well, I hid my grin behind my cup of coffee and sent Beckett a wink when the writer shuffled off to get himself an espresso of his own. She just smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

Things settled into a rhythm at the station. We all got used to having Castle around, spinning yarns and telling tales, picking our minds for details. We all enjoyed his company and the betting pool on the two of them doubled in size.

So it came as something of a shock when one day Beckett just walked into the station and informed us that we would be permanently without the services of one Mr. Richard Castle. Esposito and I exchanged a look, but Beckett's face convinced us that asking would be a bad idea, if we wanted to make it to retirement with all of our original body parts that is.

Course it didn't take long for the real story to get out. Between the two of us we put the details together pretty quick. By which of course I mean we asked Lanie.

Seems the writer had finally crossed the line and done what no one else would have dared. He'd looked into her mother's death. And Beckett'd just shut down on him. Actually, not just on him. She shut down a little on pretty much everyone. Oh, it was subtle, nothing obvious. You'd have to know her pretty well to notice a difference, but I'd worked with her pretty closely for almost two years now, and I could tell that she was hurt and angry. The one betrayal had made her less likely to risk another.

I already knew about Beckett's past. A couple of weeks in Esposito had filled me in on the way to a crime scene. A woman had been knifed in an alley and I'd noticed Beckett looked a little shaken. When I mentioned it to Esposito he set me straight. Told me the bare bones of what had happened to her mother, and told me never to mention it. The fact that nobody'd ever find my body if I did was understood.

My little informal book discussions with Beckett abruptly stopped. I dropped of the last book she'd lent me without a word and made a mental note to get the rest from the library if I decided I wanted them. The only thing that kept writer-boy from getting a little visit from Esposito and I was the fact that we knew Beckett'd kill us if we interfered. So we kept our distance. And surprisingly so did Castle, at least that we knew of. According to Lanie he'd made a couple of overtures to Beckett herself, all of them swiftly rebuffed.

Course he had more luck going through the mayor when _Heat Wave_ came out. Got himself an invitation back to the precinct for publicity reasons. I thought the steam was gonna come out of Beckett's ears the whole week before hand.

"Think Castle'll make it through the photo shoot alive?" I asked Esposito as I watched Beckett slamming stuff around on her desk for the fifth time that day.

"Oh, he'll be fine," Esposito told me.

Despite my partner's confidence I was pretty skeptical. "Ya think? She seems pretty mad."

"I don't think, I know," Esposito told me confidently.

"Do you?" I asked, shocked. "You wanna put your money where your mouth is?" I taunted.

"What like a bet?" he asked.

"Unless you're too scared Beckett'll find out."

"Oh you're on," he replied. "Twenty bucks says he gets her to let him work another case with her."

"Oh you're on," I told him. And we shook on it.

I heard a voice behind me, "Hey, you two ladies wanna gossip all day or are we actually going to get some work done here?" Beckett asked.

Esposito and I hurried back to our desks. I almost hoped I was wrong about the bet. Castle coming back might put Beckett in a better mood, or at least give her someone else to focus her annoyance on.

xxxxx

I'm not sure how he did it, but Castle did insinuate himself back in her life. And things started to go back to normal. Beckett loosened back up a bit, and Esposito and I started making a game of how many times we could catch the pair doing something less than professional.

One day Beckett just walked in and set "Stormy Weather," the next in the series on my desk. Things were getting back to an even keel so to speak.

And then _Heat Wave _hit the bookstands.

Course the celebration was somewhat overshadowed by their most recent spat. Turns out Castle had another book offer, though I never really got the details. It was one of the few times I ever saw Beckett insecure. 'Course she covered the hurt and rejection with anger and lashed out at the writer. I think she'd gotten so used to him there, so used to him focusing on her that she didn't think about what would happen when he finally left. And she certainly hadn't expected it to be shoved in her face so suddenly. Thank god _Heat Wave_ was such a huge commercial success, or we might have been in for months of irritated Beckett in denial.

One thing there was no denying the book was entertaining.

I picked up a copy first chance I got. I wasn't privy to the advanced copy that Beckett was and I knew I couldn't ask her to borrow this one. The book discussion might be a little odd. Good material for some subtle mockery I figured though. What I got was even better than I expected. Not only was Heat basically some sort of sexy super-cop, but Castle had managed to write himself into the story, as her _love interest_. Not that either of them appeared to realize that. And I began to realize that maybe this wasn't the best thing to tease her about. After all, Beckett'd already fallen in love with Castle's _writing _years ago. Now that _he_ was writing Heat and Rook circling closer and closer in the new series, well, it seemed like something too private to mention.

Sure, her being his inspiration and the insanity Heat got up to was fair game. And I teased her about that endlessly. But stuff like what started on page 104, well that was a whole other story. I wondered if Esposito had read the thing. If he had he hadn't mentioned it to me. Of course that didn't mean anything because I'd never mentioned it to him either. But he was oddly silent about the whole thing. And I usually only teased Beckett when nobody was around. It was like an extension of our little book club, but less well-defined. Because defining it would mean presenting Beckett with some fairly obvious facts about what was going on in that book. Hell, it wasn't even sub-text; Castle'd basically out and out stated what he was after. Even if he never actually said it and Beckett pretended not to notice.

And they got closer. A lot closer. They were always eating lunch together, and bouncing ideas off each other. Wherever one was it was a fairly good bet you'd find the other nearby.

But it didn't become ridiculous until their double dates. When Lanie told us Beckett had asked her to set her up with someone Esposito and I tried to lay bets on how long it'd take Castle to get jealous. But that pool never got off the ground. Problem was nobody wanted to put money on anything longer than thirty seconds after he found out. So we had to find our fun another way. When the writer asked about Brad we played him up. He was already a good guy, wasn't hard to make him sound like the catch of the century. And Beckett acting all flirty and un-Beckett like certainly didn't hurt.

It wasn't until we started getting the calls from the restaurant (that they'd both somehow ended up at) that the truth came out. They were both _way_ more interested in the case than their respective dates. Beckett hadn't been gone an hour before she'd called with an update. And the sad thing, neither of us was surprised to hear Castle's voice chime in alongside hers. I still don't think they realized they were finishing each other's sentences. They certainly didn't acknowledge it if that was the case. Just like they didn't seem to notice the intimacy implied by Beckett just handing the man her purse when we showed up at the pet shop to search the place. And the funny thing? He just _took _it. Didn't even bat an eye. A woman who's not my girlfriend hands me her purse you can bet I'd at least do a double take. Not Castle. Not with Beckett.

I thought about it later when I'd finally clocked out. It was funny how well they just _fit_. There was no other word for it. They were a team, and they worked best that way.

I remembered months ago being surprised when Beckett had taken Castle back. Then I saw her insecure and hurt when she thought he might not want to stay. And now?

Well, now I just wonder if she realizes how much she wants to keep him around.

xxxxx

TBC (I think Alexis on her dad is next)


	3. Alexis on her Dad

Alright, thank you again to all my lovely reviewers. I thought this chapter was going to take longer, but I needed a distraction from some really irritating comments about my thesis from someone on my committee. So I wrote this. Lucky you guys. And hey, it did the trick for me too. I no longer want to stab someone with a pen!

So here it is, Alexis on her Dad.

I still own nothing.

xxxxx

People always think it must be so great having my Dad. After all, like he says himself, he is the cool dad. He's fun, he's easygoing, he practically encourages me to go out and do crazy things, he supports me whatever I do, and hey, not too many fathers instigate fencing matches or laser tag in the middle of an apartment. So yeah, I'll admit it, my Dad's great. I trust him. He trusts me. I can tell him anything and he doesn't freak out. Well, he tries not to at least. Yup, I know exactly how lucky I am to have him. I love my Dad. A lot. I don't know what I'd do without him. And most days I wouldn't change a thing.

Which isn't to say he doesn't have his flaws. Oh boy does he have his flaws.

Most of which revolve around his public image. Dad _loves_ his image. Loves being the hot bachelor in town, different woman on his arm every night, the irresponsible ladies man who pulls crazy stunts and gets away with them because he can. Because he's _Richard Castle_, bestselling author. I learned early on that he's not nearly as bad as he pretends to be, but still… well, every so often his image comes to smack me in the face. Usually right after a list of New York's sexiest Bachelors hits the newsstands, or after one of his book tours, or after one of his release parties.

Sure, the odd photo will randomly hit the tabloids, but for the most part the press is centred around major events. Dad isn't Brad Pitt, _thank God. _The press doesn't camp out outside our building, nobody bothers me at school, and for the most part I can live a fairly normal life. And even if my Dad has always gone out on dates on fairly regular basis, I've always known I was the woman in his life.

Still, it can be… well, _weird._

When you catch your friends twittering about something your Dad said in an article, or giggling over a picture in a magazine. When teachers start paying you undue attention just so they can casually (or so they think) drop in a question about your father and what he's up do lately, and when the first question any new female you meet asks is about your _Dad_, well, it can get annoying. And I sometimes wish that he could just be a little more normal. Just a little.

Although… the questions from people I actually know is not nearly as bad as some of the women that he actually dates! I will give my father this, I don't meet most of them. Most of them aren't near serious enough for that. But sometimes it's inevitable, we'll meet at a book launch, or sometimes it'll be something as innocuous as my answering the phone when they call. As soon as they figure out who I am they turn sickly sweet in an attempt to win over "Daddy's little girl." And that drives me nuts. For one, most of them don't have enough brain cells to fill an egg cup. I know it sounds harsh, but it's true. Dad doesn't tend to pick his women based on intellect, if you know what I mean.

Of course the groupies at the parties are the worst, but they're usually (and mercifully) also around the shortest amount of time. Four hours of Dad smiling and joking while signing various parts of the female anatomy or various pieces of lingerie… It sets my teeth on edge. And sure, I get that Dad's a guy and he, well, appreciates the female form shall we say. But that doesn't mean I have to like it when I see it.

I know we joke about stuff like that in my family. And generally I just brush it off, but catching either your grandmother or your father doing what basically amounts to the walk of shame can get awkward. Although Dad's usually better at it than Gran thank goodness. At least if I don't actually catch him walking in the door I can pretend ignorance to half the things he gets up to. Still, it's hardly normal to have parents who are divorced but still sleep together whenever they meet. For our own sanity we all pretend I don't know what's going on, but I know. I've known for a while.

And so even though I know why he does it, and I certainly think Dad's allowed to have some fun, even if he is a Dad, sometimes I wish he'd grow up a bit. As great as Dad is, sometimes I can't help thinking it'd be nice to have a woman to talk to. I love my Mom. Really, I do. But talking to her about anything other than shopping or acting or cute boys is pretty much pointless. It's one of the reasons I'm actually really glad Grams came to live with us. Even if she is a bit crazy some of the time, when it comes right down to it she's actually pretty awesome at advice. And she can be absolutely great at the girl stuff. If I need help convincing Dad to let me go to a party or picking out a dress, or even occasional advice about boys, Grams is great. But there are certain things a girl doesn't want to talk to her grandmother about y'know?

To Dad's credit, I think that might be part of the reason he got married for the second time. I think he figured I needed a female role model or something. Of course we all know how _that _worked out. While Gina is certainly mature and sensible, she also isn't exactly the 'Mom' type.

So yeah, I love my Dad, but when it comes right down to it, he's absolutely clueless about women.

And then came Detective Beckett.

I was there the first time my Dad met Kate Beckett, even if I didn't actually meet her myself. Dad was hoping for something different, something out of the ordinary and then Poof! Like magic, there she was. Of course she wanted to question him about a murder investigation, which is not something most people would be excited about. And while Dad wasn't _excited_ exactly, he was intrigued. He was bored, and this was something different. I know he didn't take the whole thing as lightly as I'm absolutely certain he led Detective Beckett to believe. Even if my Dad can be a bit inappropriate at times, he's not actually a jerk. Sometimes I think he just gets caught up in his own head and doesn't realize how he's coming across to other people.

And I have no doubt that when Dad first met the Detective his goal was to irritate her as much as possible. After all, boys do that when they meet pretty girls. And she, and her case, had caught his interest.

I remember the evening after they closed that first case. Dad couldn't stop _bragging_ about how he'd helped catch a killer. How he'd chased the guy down the alley half-barefoot and then gotten a confession. He seemed to think it was all pretty cool. When he saw Grams and my scandalized faces he quickly told us that he hadn't been in any real danger since the gun pointed at his head had the safety on. Not to mention Detective Beckett was there. After that Grams and I started to get more of the truth. How he'd basically gone against her orders and chased after the suspect by himself, getting grabbed in the process. Even dad admitted that maybe catching the guy hadn't been all his doing.

"Although Beckett could have at least admitted that it was pretty cool how I knocked the guy out," he pointed out petulantly. "She wouldn't even tell me for sure if she was going to put it in her report."

"And why exactly do you want to be in a police report?" I'd asked him.

"Oh come on? An official mention in a police report about how I helped take down a suspect? Tell me that's not cool," Dad said, resuming his bragging.

"Oh of course, it was really very good of you to rush in trying to be the hero, getting in the way and not letting the professionals do their jobs," Grams cut in sarcastically.

"Now you, you're just a kill-joy," Dad told her. "You and Beckett."

"Well of course Richard!" Grams exclaimed, "What if you'd been hurt?"

"But I wasn't. He wasn't going to shoot me," Dad replied.

"You don't know that," I told him. "He had already killed three people, two of them innocent bystanders to cover up his original crime. What's one more?"

"You know what? You're all kill-joys," Dad said, disappointed.

I sighed, "Well, I guess it was kind of cool, but I'm glad it's over." No one wants their father out chasing after criminals. It's dangerous.

Grams agreed, "Yes. The excitement's done and we can all go back to normal. And you can go back to pretending you don't have writer's block."

Instead of looking insulted Dad had been thoughtful, "Yeah…" he said distracted.

"Uh oh," said Grams. I silently agreed. I'd seen that look before.

"What is it?" I asked him when it didn't look like he was about to continue.

"Detective Beckett," my father said slowly. "She's… she's not what I expected. She's… interesting."

"Richard…" Grams started.

But Dad wasn't listening. He grinned. "I've got to call Bob!"

"The mayor?" I asked. "Why?"

"Because daughter," he told me. "I may have just found the solution to my writer's block and, if everything works out, a new leading lady." With that he ran into his office.

Grams and I watched him go. "Well kiddo," she said, "I have a feeling things are going to get interesting around here."

"No kidding," I replied. "Although…" I paused, considering. "Detective Beckett's no fool. Dad might not know exactly what he's getting into."

Grams grinned, "Oh, I think that's almost a certainty."

The Detective had unintentionally managed to get under his skin after practically their first meeting. And then even though he insisted that she was nothing more than research, well, anyone with half a brain could see that was untrue. Even though I'm hardly as brilliant as my father gives me credit for, I'm not exactly a dummy either. From their first case, Dad had been trying to impress the pretty girl. And it was absolutely killing him that he wasn't succeeding.

From what I heard, in the early days of their partnership Detective Beckett made it very clear that he was around only because she'd been ordered to tolerate him. Is it wrong to admit that made me like her almost instantly?

I'd actually spoken to the woman myself by this point. She'd arrested my father and Grams and I had gone to bail him out of jail. Y'know, typical Castle family outing. She'd seemed pretty nice. Irritated at Dad, but not petty and vindictive, and perfectly willing not to press charges if he'd just _leave her alone_. Course we all knew that wasn't to be.

The first few weeks he was shadowing her, the cases were all Dad could talk about. How cool it was to actually be on the front lines actually seeing stuff himself. It was only natural that her name kept popping up. And it popped up a lot. How good Detective Beckett was with the victim's families, how good she was at empathizing with some of the killers themselves, how she kept all her male colleagues in line without batting an eye. It was obvious to everyone but him that Dad was smitten. In most of the stories though, it was pretty clear that the Detective wasn't quite as enamored with him as he was of her.

But for all his flaws, Dad's a good guy. And slowly he started to win her over.

She started dropping by the apartment to discuss their cases, coming over for poker night, she even once stayed for breakfast after they went to a charity benefit together. That was actually the first time I really got to talk to the Detective. And she was smart, and sensible, and funny, and really just completely unlike all of the other women Dad had ever shown any interest in. Not that he'd actually admitted to showing interest in her.

I could see the signs though. Dad started coming up with ridiculous excuses to be at the precinct as much as possible, even when they didn't have a case. He started showing a level of concern for the Detective that (as far as I know) had been previously reserved for Grams and me (and maybe occasionally, my Mom). He started complaining about how the woman didn't eat right, bringing her snacks for breakfast every so often, or muttering about how she spent all night working on a case and then slept at the station, and that just wasn't healthy. Grams tried to point out that Kate Beckett was a grown woman, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but that seemed to fall on deaf ears.

But his general concern about her eating and sleeping habits was nothing compared to how he acted when a case seemed to get to her. I mean, the bad cases tended to get to him too, but if _she_ was upset then Dad'd, well, he'd basically become her uber-shadow. He'd make excuses to stay with her as long as possible, and then when he was home, start brooding about what their next move should be to solve the case.

I remember talking to him about it on one of the bad ones when I saw him sitting at his desk, staring off into space. "You okay Dad?" I asked as I walked in.

He sent me a sad smile, "Yeah sweetie. Just distracted by the case."

"It's bad?" I'd asked tentatively.

He'd sighed, "Yeah," he admitted. "Two kids lost their mother. Beckett's taking it badly."

"She send you home?" I asked him. He nodded, so I continued. "She still at the station?"

That made him smile, "Where else would she be?" he mused, distracted.

"There anything I can do?"

He sent me a more genuine smile then. "No sweetie. Just be you. How was your day?"

"Oh, fine. Same old same old. It's high school. Not much has changed." More interested in our previous conversation I steered the topic back to the case, "Does it get hard?" I asked Dad, "working on cases like you do. I mean, you're not trained for this…" And I worried about him. Even though he was the parent, and he'd tell me it wasn't my job, I worried.

I half expected him to deflect the question with a smile like he sometimes did, but not this time. "Sometimes," he admitted. "But, working with Beckett, well, I've realized how important her job is. I mean, I always knew of course. The importance of law enforcement's kind of a no-brainer. But, I guess I just never realized how hard it is. Especially the way she does it. She cares about the victims. When I write about them, well, yeah I know bad things happen. But they're characters. These are real people. And she never loses sight of that. And that can get hard. When you see what happens, and you can't even help them by solving the case." And then he lapsed into silence again.

And I realized why he spent all day trying to bait her or brought her food. It was the same reason that I suddenly sent him a bright smile. "Well, I'm sure you'll get him. You'll go to sleep and in the morning either you or Beckett will have some brilliant inspiration. With my dad on the case, the criminals of New York don't stand a chance."

Dad grinned again then. "I really don't deserve you do I?" he asked.

"Nope," I told him cheerfully. "But you do keep the house well stocked with ice cream so I tolerate your presence."

"Very subtle," he told me. Then he stood. "Alright, come on, let's go get ice cream." And then throwing his arm around my shoulders we wandered out into the kitchen.

I hoped Detective Beckett had someone to eat ice cream with in the middle of the night. But if she didn't, at least I knew she had Dad to bring her a doughnut in the morning.

xxxxx

Then the disaster struck.

Dad pushed just a little too far. And while I knew it had never been his intention to cause the Detective pain, that's what he'd done.

I didn't blame her for what she did, but I also wished things could be different, that she hadn't basically banned him from the station. Because Dad was moping. I mean, I know he needed to be taught a lesson, about what was and wasn't appropriate. He'd never been particularly good with boundaries after all. But I still hoped they'd work things out.

Dad was so confident when she let him shadow her again, that first case back. He was so sure his charm would win the day. Grams and I were more skeptical. After all, we were women, we understood Kate's position. And we also knew _her_ (at least a little) and we knew the traditional Rick Castle methods of wooing a woman wouldn't work. Not with her. Because even though she was mad at him, she still showed she was different to all the other women he'd spent time with. She called Grams and me to let us know that Dad was okay. Most of the other women were the type who woulda just let us worry out of spite, because they were mad at dad. 'Course Dad took her concern for our peace of mind as a sign that she liked him or something. But then boys are dumb.

Still, his cluelessness didn't make it any better when she sent him packing again. I saw the look on his face, and it was the most upset I'd seen my dad in a while. He'd found a problem that he couldn't just charm or buy himself out of and he didn't quite know what to do about it.

Kate Beckett had thrown him through yet another loop.

It was only thanks to yours truly that he realized what an idiot he'd been. I'd only talked to him for a couple of minutes before he was heading out again. And when he got back an hour later, well, he was like a whole new Dad.

He walked into the loft, picked me up off the floor and swung me around.

"You, are my lucky charm, my best advisor. Ask and it shall be granted unto you." Then he paused, "Seriously, whatever you want I'll get you. I don't suppose _you_ want a pony?"

"What?" I asked, confused. "No. You know my one and only experience on a horse ended badly." Then I realized, "I take it when you left abruptly you went to talk to Beckett."

"Yes," he confirmed. "And she's back on board. And I owe it all to you; you and your talk about how guys justify everything without actually apologizing."

"That's great Dad!" I told him happily, before something hit me. "Wait, are you honestly telling me that you never actually _apologized_ to Beckett until now? DAD!" Really, the stupidity of the male species…

"Well…" and I watched as my Dad started sheepishly shuffling back and forth…

All the noise had attracted Grams attention. "What's all this?" she asked walking into the room.

"Dad got Beckett to let him shadow her again," I told her.

"Oh Richard, that's wonderful!" she agreed. "How did you do it?"

Before he could reply I cut in, "Oh, he came up with a brilliant new negotiation technique. _He apologized_," I told her sarcastically.

Then it was Grams' turn to round on him. "Oh Richard _really_!" she told him. "Are you honestly telling me that you never even apologized to the woman before now?"

"That's what I said," I chipped in, glad she was here. She was (naturally) so much better at scolding Dad than I was.

"Really Richard," Grams said again. "I don't know how your reviewers can claim that you show insight into the female mind, really I don't."

Dad held up his hands defensively, "Hey! Okay, I admit, I probably could have handled things better with Beckett, and I may have made a few mistakes…"

"Understatement of the year," Grams muttered. I nodded in support.

"But," Dad continued more forcefully, "At least I'm learning the error of my ways. Better late than never right?"

I turned to Grams and shrugged.

Dad seemed to take that as encouraging, "Besides, with you two and now Detective Beckett to help me, how can I possibly fail to improve?"

"At least you recognize that you need improvement," I told him.

"Yes, admitting that you have a problem is always a good first step," Grams added.

"Yes, thank-you mother. Well, given that I have to be at the precinct first thing tomorrow, I am going to head to bed. I'll see you two tomorrow. Good night sweetie," he told me as he gave me another hug. "And thank you."

"Any time Dad. I'm glad she's taken you back," I told him.

"Me too." Then Dad turned to Grams, "Night mother."

"Good Night Richard," she called after him.

Grams waited until he was out of sight before turning to me, "Well, isn't this interesting?"

I just grinned. "Maybe there's hope for him after all." I figured that if Detective Beckett could teach him the importance of an apology in under a year, who knew what their partnership would teach him in the long run.

As it was, their partnership didn't seem to suffer from their falling out. In fact, it seemed to get stronger. Every day Dad came home with new stories from the station, all of them heavily Beckett-focused. Grams and I started to learn all about her through Dad. He dedicated his book to her. He started inviting her on family outings like when we went to the memorial concert for Hayley Blue. I mean, I know it was related to their case, but still… None of Dad's 'girlfriends' (and I use the term loosely) ever rated and invite to stuff like that. The two of them even got so close that I was comfortable enough to call her for advice. Even though the two of us didn't meet all that often, Dad talked about her so much that I already felt like I knew her. And I really wanted her to like me. Not only was she a lovely woman in her own right, but she was also obviously becoming really important to Dad.

And Beckett was really nice about it, and took the time to meet me and talk about going abroad for school. She treated it like it was important, like it was big deal. I wasn't just some nuisance kid to her, someone that just happened to be part of my dad's life. No, she treated me like a person in my own right, independent of Dad. And I liked that. And I realized that she was the sort of person that I wouldn't mind having around to ask questions. Because she was smart, and she gave _good _advice, and I felt like she sort of understood what I was going through. Not to mention, I know that she kept her promise not to tell him about what we'd talked about when she totally could have to score points with him. I really hoped that Dad didn't screw their relationship all up again, because I liked her.

So when a case was related to Beckett's mother's killer I got a bit worried. I mean, not just about Dad obviously; I worried about how it must be affecting her too. But, Dad was basically climbing the walls in the apartment from the time she left the police station to the time she showed up at our front door. I was really worried he was gonna do something stupid. But it seemed he'd learned his lesson. From what I gather he was supportive, but left everything up to her. And she accepted his help.

Not that it meant it ended well. I heard what happened, and I knew Dad had to be feeling pretty bad about it. So when I realized he was home I decided to make him some hot chocolate, to make him feel better. Just in case he needed it.

"Dad," I asked tentatively from the door to his study, "I made you some hot chocolate."

He looked up from his computer screen, though I was almost positive he wasn't actually writing. "Thanks honey," he replied sending me a half-smile.

"How are you doing?" I asked as I handed him the cup.

"I'll be okay," he told me. "And isn't the worrying my job?"

"I think it's pretty well established that in this family we take turns."

"Right."

"How's Detective Beckett? Is she alright?" I asked, trying to get him to talk.

"She'll be okay I think," he told me. "She's strong."

"Yeah she is." I agreed. "She's not mad is she?"

He scoffed then, "No. She's not mad. She probably should be though. It _was_ pretty much my fault."

"Dad…" I started to interrupt.

"No honey, it was. She lost her best chance at finding the identity of her mother's killer when she pulled that trigger to save me. If I'd been another cop, if I'd been trained…" he sighed.

"Dad, you don't know that. And I'm sure she doesn't regret what she did," I told him.

"Oh, she doesn't. Not even a little," he paused. "I just wanted to help y'know?"

"I know Dad, and so does Beckett. After all, you were the one who made the whole plan to catch the guy possible, even it did turn out to be a plot."

"Yeah, I put up the money. What's money to me though? I've got tons of it. But when it really matters, I screw things up. I told her I quit, that I was too much of a liability."

"Dad…" I tried again, truly shocked. He'd quit? That was unexpected.

"She wouldn't let me. Told me she'd gotten used to having me around. That I made her job easier."

"Well that's good," I told him. "See, she wants you there. If she hadn't wanted you she would have told you."

"I know," he told me. "I still… I don't know… I still feel like it might be better for her if I left."

"Don't be an idiot." I told him firmly. "She told you it wouldn't be. And trust me on this one Dad, women don't like it when men think they know better just because they're men. Detective Beckett knows her own mind, and if _she_ told you something you have to accept it. I know you're sad, but if you leave her now when she's asked you to stay, then you'll be the bad guy. Even if you think different, you know what? This isn't about you. I know you feel bad now, but you'll get over it. When it's all said and done what you really want to be there for _her_. So suck it up."

He looked at me then, "You're getting really good at these pep talks, you know that?"

"Well, you need them." I told him, "And I'm finally getting you trained. And I like Beckett, so I don't want you to screw it up."

"With your help I couldn't possibly," he told me affectionately.

"Not unless you do something without asking me first," I couldn't help pointing out..

"True," he said. "And thank you."

"No problem," I paused, "She's really okay?"

"I think she's doing better than I am," Dad admitted. "I'll tell her you were worried though, she'll like that."

"Okay," I told him. "I'm going to bed. Try and get some sleep would ya?"

"Yes daughter. Goodnight."

"Goodnight father. She's right you know, it's not your fault," I added.

"Between the two of you, I might just start to believe that," he told me.

As I walked up the stairs I couldn't help grinning to myself. Dad was putting her needs above his. Sure he was a bit misguided, not to mention taking too much of the blame himself, but he was trying to do what was best for Beckett, even if it wasn't what he wanted. It was a pretty huge step for him. And not one I remembered him taking with anyone else, not even Gina. Kate Beckett was rapidly solidifying her place as the second most important woman in his affections. Well maybe the third. For all his complaining he really was quite fond of Grams. But whether the detective was competing for second or third place, in my opinion it was really the first time that Dad'd finally found someone worthy of filling the empty spot.

His inclusion on the list of New York's ten most eligible bachelors only drove the point home. First he was romantically linked to the Detective (and Dad's insistence that he had no idea how that happened only emphasized the fact, because he'd clearly done _something_ to give the interviewer the idea. I doubt she'd just picked it out of thin air). And then there was the outcome of his date with bachelorette number three. I put the existence of the date down to Dad being Dad, and his head being turned by an attractive woman showing interest. I mean, even if I was kind of hoping that his time with Beckett would improve his taste, well, the woman wasn't a miracle worker. So yeah, even if the return of his usual tricks when it came to women and dating wasn't exactly ideal, since they were his usual tricks it was pretty unlikely the date would actually _go_ anywhere.

Even I couldn't have been prepared for what actually happened.

I asked him about his date the next day. Come on, Bachelor number 9 goes out with Bachelorette number 3? It just sounds ridiculous for one. And I was showing a friendly interest, like an encouraging daughter should, that's all. "So how was Bachelorette number 3?" I asked him lightly.

Dad looked confused by the question. "What? Oh, right, the date," he said like he'd forgotten all about it. "Well, I'm sure she's a lovely woman, but we didn't hit it off. Besides, Beckett kept getting called about the case, and we kept coming up with ideas…"

"Wait, _Beckett_ was there?" I asked surprised.

"Oh yeah," Dad told me casually. "She was on a date of her own at the same restaurant actually. Go figure. Anyways, she kept getting calls. And of course I wanted to help her..."

"Of course," I told him sarcastically. Not that he noticed. Oh that poor woman he was out with, I almost felt sorry for her. Not to mention Beckett's date. I could just see the two of them, so engrossed in their case they didn't notice anything else.

"And then Ryan and Esposito found something and we went to meet them..."

Okay, now I really needed to interrupt. "Wait, you just _left_?" I asked, scandalized. "Dad!" No woman deserved that. And for all I knew (for all either of us knew actually), Bachelorette #3 was a perfectly nice woman.

"Hey I paid for dinner before I left," he told me. "Actually, I paid for all four of us. As we were leaving it certainly looked like my date and Beckett's date were really hitting it off. And since neither Beckett nor I was particularly enamoured with our dinner partner, why not? They finish their evening together, we catch a killer. Everybody wins."

"I guess," I told him. "So you caught the killer then?"

"Of course we caught the killer," my Dad told me with a grin. "When don't we? Then we were hungry so we went for burgers at Remy's."

That caught my attention, "Wait, you mean you ended up on a date with Detective Beckett?" I clarified.

Dad's head shot up. "It wasn't a _date_ Alexis. We went for burgers after a case because we were hungry."

"Uh huh," I told him. "Who paid?"

"I did, but I was just being polite!"

I almost laughed, "Sure Dad. Well, I'm glad you caught your killer, and that you had a good meal in the end, even if it wasn't a date."

"It wasn't a date!" he insisted, his voice rising in indignation.

I just shook my head, "I'm off to school," I told him.

"Bye," he called after me.

I almost laughed on my way out the door. _Now_ Dad was actually ignoring other beautiful women in favour of focussing on Beckett and her cases, not to mention enjoying casual dinners with the Detective far more than a date with a beautiful bachelorette. Yup, Becket was _definitely _different. I wondered how long my Dad would be so clueless. Knowing his track record with women, probably a while. He might finally be in the process of growing up (at least in some ways), but he still has a ways to go.

Because even if he doesn't know it yet, it's obvious to me that though Dad still thinks he likes the airheads and the society belles, when push comes to shove, the woman he really wants to spend all his time with is a prickly NYPD Detective who trips him up at every turn.

He's realized that he likes her enough to let her go if that's what she needs, now I've just got to wiat for him to realize that he doesn't ever want to.

After all, we could use another sensible woman around this place.

xxxxx

TBC

Next is Montgomery on Castle (I think)


	4. Captain Montgomery on Castle

Alright, a second chapter got written for therapeutic reasons. These characters (along with the show) are just plain fun! As promised, Montgomery on Castle. This one's shortish, but I still kinda like it.

Thanks to all my lovely and supportive writers. One of whom even suggested I write something for glee. I'm curious as to why they picked that show, and how they knew I even watched it.

I still own nothing

xxxxx

I'll never forget that first case involving Richard Castle, not as long as I live.

The man strolled into my office one morning and offered his services for help on a case where the murderer was copying the crimes in his books. He just walked right in, told me he wanted to help the city he loved. Just like that. Now I'm no fool. I knew there was something else behind it. I figured a man like Richard Castle, well, he's not wandering in here offering to lend a hand out of the goodness of his heart. But I was also pretty sure that he also didn't mean any harm. Whatever he was up to, the man wasn't out to embarrass my people or make us look bad. So at that point I didn't much care what his real reason was for sticking around. He could help solve the case, and I'd have made a very rich, very popular man _very_ happy. And that means everybody wins.

Well, except Detective Beckett. Man, I thought Beckett's head was going to explode when she first heard she was gonna be stuck with Castle for a couple of days. The man had managed to push all a' her buttons not to mention gotten her back up just minutes after meeting her. Oh, I knew we were in for quite a show.

And I'll admit, I had a bit of a laugh at her expense over the next few days. Kate Beckett is damn good at her job, but every so often the woman needs to loosen up.

But I gotta say, what happened next came totally outta left field. Even I couldn't have seen this one coming.

I was sitting in my office early in the morning when I got a call from the commissioner. "Morning Roy," he said in greeting.

"Jim, what can I do for you?" I asked, deciding to skip the pleasantries get right down to business. After all, it's not like I actually give a damn how his golf game was going anyways.

"It seems that a member of your precinct has become quite popular with one of our local celebrities," he told me.

Even though I had a pretty good idea where this was going I had to ask, "Oh really. Which one?"

"Which celebrity or which officer?" the commissioner shot back.

I resisted the urge to role my eyes. "How about you tell me one then the other? Order's not so important."

"Well, the celebrity is one Mr. Richard Castle, famous mystery author extraordinaire, and very _big _supporter of our current mayor. You've met Bob haven't you Roy? I'm sure I don't have to tell you how highly he thinks of Mr. Castle."

I heard the underlying message and sighed, knowing there was no way out. "Well, if Castle's the celebrity than that makes the detective one…"

"Detective Katherine Beckett." The commissioner finished.

I could feel a headache coming on already. No way was Beckett gonna like whatever was coming. Hell, forget like, I wasn't sure Beckett _deserved_ whatever it was in the slightest (because whatever it was, it was obviously going to take more than a couple hours of her time). The woman was a damn fine cop, and while I was sure she could hold her own against the mystery writer, it did seem a bit like we were sabotaging her. "Well, I'll be sure to pass on the message. No doubt Detective Beckett will be flattered," I replied, knowing I was lying through my teeth; Beckett wouldn't give a rat's ass what the writer thought of her. But I also knew the complement wasn't the purpose of the call, so I waited for the other shoe to drop. And I have to say, I had a pretty good idea what that shoe was.

And the commissioner didn't disappoint, "Actually Roy, here's the thing. Castle's apparently so taken with your Detective that he wants her to be the protagonist in his new set of novels. Or rather, he wants to base a character off of her."

"And he wants Beckett's permission?" I asked. Well this wasn't quite what I'd expected. And I can't say the idea was entirely unappealing. It'd be good press.

But it seems the commissioner wasn't done. "Well, that and…"

"And?" I pressed.

"And he wants to shadow her on the job, for research purposes," the commissioner finished.

Oh, now wait just a minute. Castle wasn't a bad guy, but I couldn't really have just anyone off the street following one of my Detectives around. The job was dangerous for Christ sakes! "Now wait a minute Jim…"

"Roy, I know what you're thinking…" he said, trying to interrupt.

"No, I don't think you do," I told him curtly.

"Remember, the mayor's a big fan," the commissioner wheedled. "And when Castle's happy, well, he's happy. And you know how important it is to keep the mayor happy."

"I appreciate that Jim, but can we really just have a guy following a Detective around? She walks into some pretty dangerous situations. And I've met the man, he doesn't exactly take direction _well._" Understatement of the year I thought to myself. "I won't endanger one of my officers for a celebrity out looking for kicks."

"No one's asking you to," Jim assured me. "Obviously we would of course require Mr. Castle to follow certain guidelines as well as signing certain forms absolving the New York City Police Department of any responsibility for anything that may happen to him while shadowing Detective Beckett. The mayor has also assured me that he has no intention of endangering or hindering the work the detective and her colleagues will be doing. He'll be more of a silent observer."

"You've obviously never met the man," I remarked dryly.

"Well, no not personally," he admitted.

"And what about these books? Do we really want a writer following one of our people around and then writing about it? Who knows what he'll decide to write!" And I did not like the idea of some writer twisting facts to make me and my officers look foolish.

But apparently Jim had thought of that objection already as well. "Mr. Castle has assured the mayor that he doesn't want to embarrass the department or your precinct in any way," Jim replied quickly. "In fact, Castle found his original experience tagging along after the Detective so positive that he thinks everyone should know about the work you all do down there. Think of it Roy, think of all the good press. Someone as popular as Castle, who's words reach as wide an audience as his do. You know how hard it is to get any good press for the police in this city. And what he's offering, well, we couldn't buy that kind of publicity even if we wanted to. It's win-win for everybody. Your station wins on the publicity, the mayor wins because Castle's happy and Castle wins because he gets his main character."

"And Detective Beckett?" I asked. Jim'd forgotten one key player in this little deal.

Well, maybe he hadn't forgotten her, but she'd certainly been overlooked. "Surely she would see how important this is for the station. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to do this for the city she already works so hard to protect. Besides, how bad can he be? Anyone I know who's met him says he's charming."

"That's one word for it." I muttered. But I didn't have any real objections. And even if I _had_, they'd probably have been overridden anyways. "Alright Jim. I'm on board."

"Great…"

"You didn't let me finish," I told him quickly. No way in hell was I letting a potential loose-canon of a consultant anywhere near my precinct without an exit strategy of some kind if things didn't work out. "I'm on board, but on _one _condition."

"Name it.," Jim told me immediately

"If this guy, if Castle ever does anything that I feel crosses a line, either by putting my people in danger or embarrassing the force or somehow costing us a case then I can get rid of him, no questions asked. This isn't dinner theatre we're running here Jim. You don't just get to show up and watch from the audience."

"Fair enough," the commissioner agreed easily. The man was probably so relieved that I was on board that he'd probably have let me have pretty much any condition. "I'll let the mayor know," he told me. "Bob'll be thrilled. This is gonna be great for us Roy."

"I sure hope so. Because I'm gonna have one Detective who's pissed as hell, and between you and me Jim, I can't say I blame her."

"Is she going to be a problem?" he double-checked.

"Who Beckett?" The idea almost made me laugh. Beckett was always the opposite of a problem, whatever that was. "Nah, she'll do it. She just won't like it."

And I'd been right. She hadn't liked it. I'll never forget the expression on her face when she found out what was in store for her. But when it came right down to it she didn't' take much convincing. Beckett's too much of a team player, the consummate cop. She wants what's best for the station and best for her fellow police officers. And if letting a flake of a writer follow her wherever she went meant better press and a lot of goodwill from the mayor towards the 12th precinct, well, then she'd grin and bear it. Okay, maybe not so much grin as mock. But I nobody said that wasn't allowed.

And after all, if the writer was modeling a character after her then presumably he wanted her to be herself.

When I spoke to the man himself about shadowing Beckett on a more permanent basis he wasn't quite as flip about the whole thing as I'd anticipated. He actually listened to my concerns and agreed to try and minimize them as much as possible. 'Course when Kate came in he dialed his personality up to 11. I guess it was his way of pulling her pigtails. And I decided I was gonna enjoy watching it after all. Because Beckett needed someone to pull her pigtails a little bit. Someone who reminded her that she didn't have to be quite so serious, quite so controlled all the damn time. If only because that woman needs to loosen up, let her hair down. Damn fine Detective, but at the rate she's goin' she may be headin' for one hell of a fall if she doesn't stop walking around with the weight of the world on her shoulders all the time.

I could tell right from the beginning that Castle was going to challenge her in more ways than one..

Although, I will admit that their first case after Castle's consultant status became formal wasn't quite the disaster I was anticipating.

The man _had_ driven Beckett nuts, but she'd adjusted and taken pretty much everything he threw at her in stride. Or at least she appeared to. And in the end nobody had to be reprimanded, the guilty party was arrested, nobody got hurt (on our side at least, a scumbag philanderer got cut up pretty bad from what I hear. I can't bring myself to feel much sympathy for him though). In my time as Captain I've learned that's all you can really ask for, that everyone comes back at the end of the day.

I think Castle even learned something after that first case, something about just how good his inspiration was at her job. And here at the 12th we always like it when we can teach multimillionaires a thing or two.

Plus, the man did turn out to be useful, and not only because of his extensive connections (though those certainly didn't hurt). There's a reason Castle's a bestselling author; he spins a damn good story. And he's got good ideas, and decent instincts. Even though Beckett originally resisted his input, it wasn't long until she was jumping right on board with some of his theories in story form. I'm not even sure if she realized what was happening between the two of them.

She seemed to be letting herself have a little fun around him. Not too much. And she'd still shut herself down at pretty much the slightest provocation, but she was looser. I noticed, but I don't think Castle did, not then, and I actually, now that I think about it, not now.

But then, the man was too busy noticing other things about her. Kate might just be the most empathetic of any of the Detective's I ever trained. And Castle noticed that about her right away. I remember in the middle of a case (middle of a case that got re-opened because I sent the wrong man to prison mind,) the writer asked me how she did it. How she managed to make the families of the victim's feel just that little bit better by convincing them that she cared and that their loved one's death mattered as much to her as it did to them. I'm not sure how she does it myself, but she does it each and every time and it blows me away each time. One glance at Castle told me I wasn't the only one. The man was practically in awe. When I thought about it later I couldn't help wondering who else had noticed, and how come the two of them hadn't.

And Castle wasn't just interested in Beckett. He seemed to love how the whole damn station worked, and he cared about everyone in it. He was always checking in with people, asking them how their days had been, stuff like that. And his attitude could be kind of infectious. Not that the man couldn't be serious when it was called for. He could. Hell, he even bothered to ask how I was doin' after I learned I'd sent a guy to jail for years for a murder he didn't commit.

Of Castle also loved anything that even resembled anything out of a story. It was like he saw the world through the lens of a particularly gruesome fairytale. I remember his reaction the first time I had to go into what I like to call 'beat down' mode in front of him. Had to put a member of this wonderful city's financial elite in their place to get the job done. The writer's reaction? To sit on my couch grinning like a damn fool and then walk out of the room claiming that watching me put a would-be senator in his place was "awesome." Okay, I admit it; I smiled a little on the inside. After all, even _I_ haven't quite risen above it all that I wasn't pleased when I managed to impress a minor celebrity.

And Beckett's not the only one who's damn good at her job.

Or who knows how to solve a murder.

But then, like I said, despite some of his crazy personality, so does Castle, in his way.

Still, there has been the odd time that his way hasn't quite lined up with reality. And those times, unsurprisingly, tend to revolve around the pretty Detective he's chosen to follow around.

I'll never forget what happened the last time as long as I live. I glanced up at the three of them, two of _my_ people and a killer, walkin' down the hall like nothin' in the world was wrong. But that sixth sense every good cop develops just started goin' off like crazy in my head. I knew something wasn't right. So I did what any good cop would do, I got my gun.

And then I saw Beckett pleading with me to follow her lead so that the only person who could tell her who killed her mother wasn't killed. And I also saw Castle beside her, at gunpoint. The man was terrified, but completely willing to go along with whatever she said, whatever she wanted. You could see he'd put his trust in her completely. After seeing both their faces I couldn't help but slowly put down my gun.

Not that it made much of a difference in the end.

God what a mess. And I don't just mean in the literal sense of having a dead body on my floor. One a' my Detectives shot a man in the middle of my station house. Oh the guy had it comin'. After all, he was holding a gun to the back of the station's most high profile consultant, but _still_. And not only that, but the guy also happens to be one a' my Detective's mother's killer. And not just any Detective's mother, but the one who _shot_ him. And if that wasn't enough, the dirtbag was also the only person who might have been able to tell her who hired him. Really, the only good things about the whole situation were that Beckett'd at least gotten about thirty witnesses who could corroborate that it was a justified kill and that neither of my people got hurt.

And you know what the worst part is? Now that it's over I'm not sure which one of them I should be more worried about. Her mother's case has always been a sore spot for the lovely Detective, but I'm beginning to wonder if Castle's the more shaken up of the two. I saw them earlier having dinner, and she seemed almost at ease. The writer on the other hand was a bit green around the gills, and was watching her like a hawk. I don't think the man plans on letting her out of his sight until he absolutely has to.

I decided to duck out of my office to check on him when she slipped out of the bullpen for a moment. Hey, Beckett's not the only one who works late sometimes. And after a day like this one I have a hell of a lot of paperwork to go through. I wandered over to the Detective's desk. "How's it goin' Castle?" I asked.

He turned, surprised. "Captain Montgomery. I didn't realize you were still here. Did you want something to eat?" he asked in his turn, gesturing to the pile of food on the desk.

I raised my eyebrows at the amount, but decided not to ask. "No thanks Castle. I already grabbed something. And you didn't answer my question."

The writer sighed, "I'm not exactly alright. But I will be. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about what happened."

"Oh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Castle almost looked nervous.

"I just wanted to make sure that we were okay," the writer explained. "I mean, that you're still okay with me being here after what happened."

"After a guy got shot in my hallway you mean?" I laughed humourlessly. "That wasn't exactly your fault Castle. And I'm not the one you've got to square things with here." When it came down to it the only person who's opinion mattered on this one was Beckett's. It was her mother and whenever that was the case, it was her call.

The writer paused, looking slightly flustered, "Oh, well, actually we're good."

"You sure 'bout that?" I asked him. I knew Beckett could be a wizard at hiding what she was really thinking. You had to look closely, and even then only people who knew her well might see beyond whatever mask she was wearing.. Not that Castle didn't know her well, but the man was hardly at his best at the moment.

"Yeah… I mean…" Castle paused, looked like he wanted to say something else, but then changed his mind. "No, just yeah."

"Castle…" I said warningly. I knew I had a tone that could intimidate almost anyone, even millionaire writers who liked to flout authority.

But to my surprise one of my better warning tones had no effect on him. "You'll have to ask her Captain. She made some threats about what would happen if I told anyone that I'd really rather she not carry out."

I was almost amused. Probably woulda been if the man didn't look so serious, "Castle, you may not think I'm as scary as Beckett, but…"

But the other man hastened to correct me. "Oh, it's not that. With you two I figure I'm pretty much between a rock and a hard place here, but I guess I figure I owe her one."

Well, that was interesting. "Damn right you do," I told him.

"Look sir, I know this is my fault…" he started.

But now it was my turn to interrupt, "I never said that."

Castle shot me a look that plainly told me his feelings on the matter before continuing, "And if I could fix things for her I would. I know I'm not a cop and I know that I'm not the ideal person to have around in situations like today's. But I will try my best to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again."

"Only way you can guarantee that it doesn't is to quit," I reasoned. "This job's too dangerous." Then I noticed that Castle looked really uneasy. "Castle?" I asked.

"I told her I was done earlier tonight," he admitted quietly.

I sighed. Well, it wasn't exactly unexpected. I was kind of surprised he'd been the one to instigate the dissolution of his arrangement, but one thing I had learned was that Richard Castle was full of surprises. I didn't exactly like it, but it was his decision and I could respect that. "Well, it's your decision Castle, but we'll miss you around here," I told him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly.

"What?" I asked confused. "But you just said…"

"I know," Castle told me firmly, as he looked me right in the eye.

"Well, th'only way that…" And then it hit me. What he wasn't saying. He'd told Beckett he was going and now he wasn't. Only one thing would cause that. And actually, it'd also explain why she'd felt the need to threaten him. "Oh," was all I said.

"Yeah," Castle replied. "Now Captain, I'm sure you understand how it might be unfortunate for me if people heard I'd offered to leave and then not left. How Beckett might not take _kindly_…"

"Say no more Castle. I understand. And hey, look on the bright side, you never actually told me why you changed your mind. For all I know you're just fickle," I couldn't help pointing out.

Castle almost grinned then. "Yeah, well, bottom line is we're fine." I couldn't help noticing that he seemed to refer to Beckett and him as a "we" without even realizing it. I sent him what I hoped was an encouraging look before turning and walking away.

I got about halfway back to my office before something occurred to me, "Hey Castle?" I called to him after turning back.

The writer looked up at me again, "Yeah?"

"Something bad goes down in the field, it's you and Beckett. She's hurt. What do you do?" I asked him.

Castle paused then shrugged, "Check on her, make sure she's okay. Try and get her to safety, then call either Ryan and Esposito or 911. Oh, and then try not to panic," he added as an afterthought.

Now it was my turn to hold back a grin. "Yeah, but you'd check on your partner first. As long as that's true I've got no problem with you hangin' around Rick. Trust me; you could be a hell of a lot worse. And _none_ of this was your fault."

The other man nodded, and with that I turned and walked away. It seems most of the concerns I'd originally had about the writer were fairly unfounded. I grabbed some file folders from my office before heading out for the night. Before I left I shot one last glance in the bullpen where I saw Castle helping the Detective with her coat. She was telling him something over her shoulder, and they were both smiling.

This time I didn't bother to hide my grin as I headed towards the elevator. She'd asked him to stay, would wonders never cease? Kate Beckett has asked Richard Castle to stick around. And based on his face when he'd been watching her, I wondered if he might eventually end up becoming a more permanent fixture. Like he'd said, he'd always be looking out for his partner. I wondered if he knew yet that he wanted her to fill that role in more ways than one.

xxxxx

TBC

Next up, Martha on the lovely Detective (I think)


	5. Martha on the lovely Detective

Alright here it is, by the weekend as promised. It'll probably be a few days before the next one too. But I hope everyone's patient. And thanks again to the lovely lovely reviewers. You guys make my day. Hope this one satisfies. I know people were looking forward to Martha. I may have gotten a bit OOC at the end there, but I hope not too much.

xxxxx

Martha on the Lovely Detective

xxxxx

You know, it's not every day that a mother gets a phone call from her son asking her to come bail him out of jail.

In fact, it's not _every_ mother that ever gets that call. But _I_ have never been like _every_ mother. And mine has never been like _every_ family.

Where would be the fun in that? I've always said live life the fullest, grab every opportunity and squeeze it for all it's worth. I make the most of every experience. What type of actress would I be if I didn't? Not a very good one, I can tell you that much.

But this story isn't about me. It's about my son, Richard Castle, and the very pretty police detective who was responsible for what would be (I believe) his fourth arrest. Of course the charges were dropped again, just as they always are. I'd love to say it had anything to do with the law, but the truth is it has more to do with the fact that if one is a highly successful author and one of the mayor's poker buddies, well, minor crimes have a habit of just… disappearing.

Sometimes I wonder if the charges ever sticking one of these days might not be a good thing for him in the long run.

I love my son dearly, as a mother should, but sometimes I think he needs to grow up, just a little.

But that fact's really only tangential to this particular tale. What is important here is that the first call I received that day from the police station was not one asking me to bail out my son, but rather enquiring about his whereabouts. The phone rang mid-morning and unsurprisingly I heard a female voice on the other end. What was surprising was her identity, "Hello, this is Detective Beckett from the NYPD; I need to speak to Richard Castle," she said by way of greeting.

I couldn't help noticing that the woman sounded livid. Good Lord, what had he done now? "I'm sorry he's not in at the moment," I told her. "Is there a message?"

"Do you know where he is? It's very important I find him." The woman was trying to be as polite as possible, but after over forty years on the stage I could read tone. And there was a very controlled anger underneath her words.

"I hope he's not in trouble Detective," I told her candidly, though I knew better already.

"I'm afraid I can't say much about that," Detective Beckett informed me, her voice softening slightly for the first time in our conversation. "But I would appreciate any information you have on his whereabouts."

Well, I certainly hoped this time Richard hadn't bitten off more than he could chew. He'd said something about helping the police earlier that day. I suspected his… _assistance _had gone too far. And going too far was another lesson he had to learn, so I cheerfully told the Detective what I knew. After all sometimes a mother has to use a little tough love. "At this time of day? He's likely to be at the library, third floor, private room."

"Thank you very much Mrs. Rogers," she told me.

"Martha," I corrected. I'd never been all that fond of the formalities.

"What?" the Detective asked, momentarily confused. I suppose it was unusual for family members of potential suspects to be so friendly with the police. But as I said before, this family's all about unusual.

"Call me Martha," I corrected.

"Alright, thank you very much Martha," the Detective told me. And this time I could hear the smile in her voice.

"He's not too bad you know," I added. "He just loses track of what's considered acceptable behaviour according to today's society."

"Not to mention a severe lack of boundaries," I heard the detective add under her breath. I couldn't disagree, but then, that was probably a family trait. Time would tell if Alexis had managed to inherit it. More loudly the Detective added, "Well, I'd like to thank you for your time ma'… Martha. Have a good day."

"You too," I told her. Then I went and poured myself another glass of wine while I waited for the inevitable second call.

As expected, a few hours later I got a call summoning me to the 12th precinct to bail my son out of jail. I took Alexis of course. Not because I needed her, but because the girl insisted on coming. Once we arrived we were immediately escorted by an officer to speak to the precinct's captain and the arresting officer, one Detective Katherine Beckett.

I admit my curiosity had been piqued. After all, from what Richard had let slip in the last couple of days the woman was intriguing. I'd seen her myself briefly at the release party for the last Derek Storm novel. She'd looked strong, tough. Like she knew what she was doing and could give a man a good smackdown if necessary. The woman I met when I arrived to pick up Richard was certainly all those things, but her overall demeanour was completely different. She was polite and friendly, and there was something around her jaw that indicated that she was by no means without a sense of humour. No way this woman was as serious as she purported to be. And she was even more striking up close. For all that Richard had insisted he was helping out because he was interested in the case, whether he knew it or not, I suspect there was something other than merely the copycat that'd gotten his attention. Or should I say _someone_ else?

Of course the Detective wasn't the one I spoke to first. I was first introduced to the Captain.

"Mrs. Reynolds," he greeted me. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm a big fan of yours."

"Oh you're too kind," I replied taking his offered hand.

"This is Detective Beckett," he told me gesturing to the woman at his side.

"It seems we've got a bit of a problem here," the Captain told me. "Although we allowed your son to help us out on this case because of his valuable insight, which we at the 12th do appreciate, he did not have the authority to remove evidence files from the station, especially not without going through any of the proper channels. Which is exactly what he did. Detective Beckett has pressed several charges and he's currently in holding. Now, I'm sure we'd all like to resolve this thing without anybody going to trial. Let's face it, this is exactly the sort of arrest that's more trouble than it's worth."

"You're very kind, but I hope you're not offering any special treatment Captain," I told him. Not that I'd like to see Richard in jail, but I wouldn't mind some curtailing of his more illegal shenanigans.

"It's not special treatment," the Captain assured me. "It's more of a deal."

"Oh?"

Then the woman beside him spoke for the first time. "Castle stays away from this case and we drop all charges. And I mean really away, no sneaking in, no following me around pretending to be in the neighbourhood. He doesn't touch the case," she clarified. Well, she certainly had part of his personality pegged. If he thought he'd get away with it he'd probably be back at her desk the next morning.

I heard Alexis laugh softly behind me and almost felt like joining her. "That seems fair Detective." I agreed. "Thank you very much, both of you."

Montgomery gestured to an officer to go get Castle.

I turned back to the Detective, "Was he where I said he would be?" I asked.

I saw a hint of a grin blossom on her face at that. Yes, nowhere _near_ as serious as she pretended. "Yes thank you," she told me. "That was very helpful."

"Well, unlike my son I don't want to get charged with obstruction of justice," then I saw Richard approaching out of the corner of my eye. "It's because he never had a father-figure …" People scoff, but a boy needs a strong male figure in his life. And that is unfortunately one area where I never had any success.

But Richard interrupted me before I could explain further. He seemed pleased with the deal he was being offered, but made sure to insist upon the Detective that she had the wrong man. I dragged him away before he could do any more damage. I did happen to glance back at the Detective, who seemed to be considering his opinion. Apparently despite his aura of buffoonery she hadn't completely dismissed him.

She looked like an intelligent, interesting woman. I remember thinking briefly at the time that it was a shame we'd probably never meet again.

How very wrong I'd been.

My son had (unsurprisingly) forced himself into the case. What did surprise me was that the Detective didn't appear to hold it against him in the end. I suspect it was because he'd turned out to be right and she didn't strike me as the type to be petty like that. Not about something as important as catching a killer. The ability to get over one's pride has always been something I approved of. It wasn't until I heard the tapping of keys from my son's study that I began to suspect something else was going on.

My suspicions were confirmed the next day when Richard strolled in like the cat that caught the canary and confirmed me that he'd found his next character. A tough, savy, female Detective based on, you guessed it, one Kate Beckett. He'd successfully taken advantage of his friendship with the mayor and the promise of good press in order to follow her around on her cases. He was quite literally beaming. Richard had always loved lavishing attention on beautiful women, usually exactly the type who didn't deserve it. Though interestingly that didn't seem to be the case here, making me even more intrigued by the woman who so obviously fascinated my son, if only because she was such a deviation from the norm.

Not that we met often. I only learned what he told me about her, and what he didn't tell. Even if Richard didn't like admitting it, it was clear the Detective was less than thrilled to have him around. He'd launched a charm offensive but Kate Beckett wasn't capitulating.

I was tickled pink.

Not that I wanted her to completely hate him, but the fact that she didn't just fall in his lap because of the money and the fame endeared her to me more than anything else possibly could have. If he wanted a relationship with Kate Beckett (and I don't just mean a romantic one), it wasn't going to be easy. She was going to make him work for it.

So I was somewhat surprised when she showed up at the apartment asking for his help on a case that was bothering her. Alright, so she'd already shown up at his book signing, but that had been more to throw him off his game than anything else. I hadn't seen her arrive, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. And as soon as I saw her I admit I intentionally provoked her into giving my son another verbal smackdown. There was just something about that woman that was so refreshing, especially when compared to his usual. But there was nothing personal about the book signing. That was about irritation and payback. Her sudden appearance at the apartment was more about a level of trust and comfort. Of course, the second we opened the door she looked like she was ready to change her mind about being there. I'll admit we probably made a bit of a motley crew, but, this is New York! Anything's possible. Still, I was pleased she'd come. It was obvious they'd gotten closer.

Then, almost before I knew it she was back. They were attending a fundraiser of some kind for one of their cases, not that Richard would tell me exactly where. He did look dapper in his tuxedo though. I will say this for my son, he does look good in formal wear.

Of course he wasn't the only one. I opened the door to find Detective Beckett looking absolutely beautiful. And also far more awkward than I'd ever thought I'd see her. She was always so calm and composed, exuding a sort of quiet confidence. I knew part of it was a façade for her job of course, knew every woman had her insecurities. But I can safely say that this woman had no need. Any woman who looked like Kate Beckett, who'd accomplished what she had, well, she'd earned the right to walk into any room, anywhere, head held high, shoulders back. What am I saying? In a perfect world that should be the prerogative of every woman. But as we all know, we're our own worst enemies most of the time. Still, I never wanted to see this Kate with her eyes down, shoulders hunched over again. Of course, all women know the way to fix that problem, at least temporarily. "Stunning, absolutely stunning," I told her sincerely.

Her surprised, "Really?" told me all I needed to know. And I found it strangely endearing. And she did perk up at the compliment.

Luckily I'd been involved in helping Richard pick out the dress (What? He's good, but he's not _that_ good), so I know what was coming and had the necklace all prepared. Detective Beckett was reluctant, but there are few women who can pass up a beautiful necklace, even if only for a night. It also gave me an excuse to dole out a little payback and figure out where the pair was headed. Something the Detective gladly told me.

I watched them as I auctioned off Richard's book. Surreptitiously of course, while I was keeping an eye out for potential bidders. It's part of a mother's job to embarrass her son from time to time, and I could see I'd achieved that goal. He seemed intent on trying to convince the lovely Detective to bid on him herself, but that woman, bless her, wasn't biting. I secretly hoped the gentleman bidder would win the day. It would make a better story after all, and my son's not the only one who's fond of a good tale.

My enjoyment was cut off when moments later they both exited the floor quickly, Beckett leading. The change in her demeanour led me to believe that it was police business this time. Something that was confirmed when they returned to arrest some poor employee's boyfriend.

I sighed internally, not only had the gentleman bidder bowed out of the auction early and some catty woman I recognized as being one of the more ruthless on the social register out-bid him, but what had been shaping up as an enjoyable evening between writer and muse had been cut short. Ah well, all in the name of justice I suppose.

That explanation becomes harder to take of course when your only son returns home in the early hours of the morning after having been punched in the face by a dangerous criminal. I don't think that knowing he'd been helping to catch a criminal would be much of a comfort if he never came home at all. When the Detective showed up later to return the necklace I realized that I owed the woman far more than I could ever repay. "Detective Beckett!" I said pleased to see who was on the other side of the door. "Won't you come in?"

"Hi Martha," she said shyly. "I just came by to return your necklace; I don't want to interrupt your morning. It was beautiful, thank you."

"Oh, it was nothing," I told her, waving off her thanks. "If anything I should be thanking you."

"Thanking me?" she asked, surprised.

"I saw my son's face. And reading between the lines of the story he's telling Alexis I gather he had a bit of a close call." My suspicions were confirmed when the Detective briefly looked down at her feet. "In fact, I'm fairly certain that the only reason he's here at all has a quite a bit to do with you."

The Detective sighed, "Yeah, well, it's my job. And even if he is irritating, he's my responsibility. And I won't let him get hurt, not if I can help it. Of course, he doesn't make it easy," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"Thank you Detective," I told her sincerely. "Now come in and say hello. You can't stop by and not at least say hello to Richard. He'd never forgive me."

And with that I led the woman into the kitchen, knowing Richard wouldn't let her leave quickly. And within seconds she was seated at the island in the kitchen, giggling with Alexis over eggs. As I listened to the chatter, hearing all about her opinions of the red carpet (she'd found it surreal and from the sounds of it would be quite happy not to have the experience repeated, even if she admitted the dress had been fabulous), I realized something.

She was the only woman Richard had introduced us to that I could remember giggling over eggs with Alexis. I knew both my son and his inspiration both insisted there wasn't anything like that between them, but well, they needed to open their _eyes_ as far as I was concerned. Because watching the two girls giggle while my son served them eggs, well, it just looked right.

They were easy together. I'm not sure they even recognized it.

And that mutual ease in each other's company was further emphasized at the poker game.

When Richard told me he was inviting all the officers he worked for over for poker night I insisted on joining them, not that he objected anyways of course. The more the merrier at a poker table. And I wanted to know more about the woman who'd saved my son's life. I arranged it so I could sit beside her. Told her we women had to stick together at a table full of men. She'd just laughed. And with good reason. Katherine Beckett clearly had no trouble holding her own against the boys. She was easily ten times more comfortable around them than she'd been trying to talk to society women at that fundraiser. Even though we were technically in our home, this was definitely her turf.

And one she wasn't giving up without a fight.

Her chosen opponent? My son.

They'd been trying to bait each other all night. Goading and teasing. None of her colleagues remarked on it so I was forced to assume it was typical behaviour for them. He poked and prodded, looking for a reaction and she didn't give an inch. She just pushed right back. And what might have been the best part? The other Detectives, Ryan and Esposito, were clearly solidly behind her. Oh, they liked my Richard, I was sure of it. But it was obvious that they would have loved to see her smack him down. I'd enjoy it myself. I was liking this woman more and more. Here was finally someone who wouldn't let him shower her with gifts and then try and scold him into being something they considered more acceptable, and she certainly would never let him treat her like a toy.

Kate Beckett was the real thing and she didn't even realize how different she was.

Not that my son knew it either.

The idiot let her win. Just gave up. The man had a lot to learn about women. We like to win, but we like it on _our _terms and not because some Neolithic male decides to let us have this round. Like we couldn't do it on our own if he didn't decide to bend the rules a little in our favour.

It was a lesson Richard needed to learn, he just needed the right teacher.

I watched him leave the apartment the next morning after I'd confronted him about it. The poor fool hadn't even realized what he'd done wrong. Suddenly I smiled.

"Uh oh," Alexis said from the counter.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"I know that look," she told me. "I've seen it on Dad's face more times than I can count, and it always leads to something insane."

I gave her an indulgent smile, "You're far too responsible you know that? And don't worry. You'll like this idea, trust me." I went to grab the phone, ignoring Alexis' confused expression.

"Do we have Detective Beckett's number?" I asked her.

"Yeah, Dad put it on a list next to the phone in case something ever happened and I couldn't get a hold of him for some reason," she told me.

I grinned, of course he had. "Excellent," I said when I found it. I dialled quickly.

"Beckett," a professional voice I was beginning to know well greeted me.

"Detective, hello. It's Martha."

"Martha?" she asked surprised. "Hi! What can I do for you?"

"Well, Detective, it's... I hate to have to tell you this but..."

"Is it Castle? Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"Oh no, nothing like that." I told her breezily. "It's, well... I love my son Detective, but sometimes the things he does, and the decisions he makes, well, he can be a bit clueless if you know what I mean. Even if he means well."

"What's he done now?" Beckett asked me dryly.

"He threw his hand last night at the poker game. Idiot had a full house." There was a pause. "Detective?" I asked cautiously.

"He threw...?!?" I heard her start. "Right," she said quickly, and clearly irritated.

"In his defence I think he thought he was being nice," I told her quickly.

"Oh yeah, because I really need Richard Castle to hold my hand through a bad run 'a cards. I'm a homicide Detective for Christ sakes!" Oh she was seething now. This was fantastic. Suddenly she seemed to realize. "Sorry Martha."

"Oh don't apologize dear; I agree with you completely," I told her honestly.

This seemed to amuse the woman. "Thanks, I'll take care of it."

"Excellent. He's a good man, my son. Sometimes he just needs a bit of sense knocked into him," I told her.

"I can assure you I have no problems knocking him in the head," Kate assured me.

"I'll leave you to it then," I told her. "Lovely speaking to you as always Detective."

"You too Martha, and you know, thanks for letting me know."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," I told her happily. With that I hung up the phone. I turned to see Alexis grinning at me. I simply raised a single eyebrow. It's astonishing what one can convey with the right facial expression. In this instance Alexis had no trouble getting the message.

"I stand corrected," she told me. "Nice one Grams!"

I laughed and we both went back to what we'd been doing. I almost felt badly for Richard. He'd been doing what he usually did to impress a girl. Except Kate Beckett wasn't like his usual girls; this time he couldn't just buy something for the lovely Detective (even he knew she wouldn't accept it), so he'd tried to give her another kind of gift. Tried to keep her in good humour, the same way he'd treat any one of the string of airheaded women in his life.

Well, he'd learn. And I suspected the experience wouldn't always be unpleasant.

A suspicion that was confirmed when he wandered home a few days later. "You know you were right about Beckett," he told me as he walked in.

"Well of course I was!" I agreed immediately. "Tell me again, what was I right about?"

He smirked, "She was mad as hatter that I threw that last hand of poker. When I tried to make it up to her, she threw _her_ hand in retaliation. Said she didn't want to embarrass me in front of my friends."

I smirked, the woman was better than I'd thought. "And how did you feel about that?" I asked him.

"Annoyed," he admitted. "Really annoyed. How do women put up with that kind of thing?"

"Smart women don't, at least not for long," I told him. He paused, considering it. "So what happened with Beckett?"

"I asked for a re-match. A real one this time. Tonight, at the station. Just the two of us," Richard told me with a grin.

"Ah," I said with a knowing smile. Of course. Those two were never so happy when they were almost at each other's throats. I wondered how long it would be until one of them just grabbed the other. The way they were going, it might not be long. "And who won?" I asked curious.

He shrugged. "We called it a tie."

"A tie?" I asked, somewhat surprised. After all, there weren't that many _ties_ in poker.

"Yeah, by the end we'd eaten most of the pot anyways," he admitted. "We were playing for gummy bears."

"Of course. And have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes _mother_," he said with a sigh. "Strong women don't like to be patronized. Message received."

"Good. You know, you could stand to learn a few things from Beckett," I told him.

"What makes you think I haven't already?" he asked with a grin.

I hit him upside the head with a magazine. "Clearly you could stand to learn a few more," I told him. "Goodnight Richard."

"Night Mother," he replied as he headed towards his study.

I grinned as I watched him go. Yes, I liked that woman very much indeed.

Despite the progress of the poker game Richard hadn't learned quite as much as I thought. In another effort to do something nice he wandered into a veritable minefield. The fool re-opened her mother's case without her permission. So she shut him out.

It's always hard on a mother, seeing their child upset. You do the best you can, and you want to give them everything, want them to have things in their lives that are good for them. And Kate Beckett had been good for my son. He'd been happy. Challenged. And very few of the women he surrounded himself with (family members excluded of course) ever challenged him.

Still, it was his own fault, and they'd have to work this one out on their own. When he managed to get back to the precinct the silly man thought that charm would be enough to win his way back permanently. All I can say is thank goodness for Alexis or I doubt he'd have ever thought of something as simple as apologizing. Not my Richard. If there's more than one solution to a problem the simple one is never the one he thinks of. No, he wants something elaborate or complex or just plain extravagant. He was used to smoothing the way with expensive gifts or flattery. And after almost a year he was finally beginning to realize that just wouldn't work with her.

Alexis and I knew he was working a case with her, so when we saw on the news that something had happened, that he may have been held at gunpoint, and then we couldn't reach him... Well, to be quite honest, we panicked. Didn't know quite what to do. I briefly considered storming down to the precinct myself and demanding information. Of course, if he had been hurt he wouldn't be at the precinct, and if he hadn't, well, I'd just be in the way. So I abandoned that idea. Then Alexis suggested calling the precinct and just asking. We were trying to find the number when the phone rang.

I grabbed it almost immediately. "Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Martha? It's Kate," I heard on the other end of the line. "Beckett," she added as an afterthought, like she was worried I'd have forgotten who she was. It almost made me smile.

"Detective!" I exclaimed, immediately catching Alexis' attention. "Are you alright? We saw the news and..."

"I'm fine," she reassured me. "That's actually why I was calling. We're all fine. I don't know if Castle called you or not, but when I heard the story made the news, well, I didn't want you or Alexis to worry. We're having Dr. Parish look over Castle right now, but from what I can tell no lasting harm was done."

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. "Well, I'm glad everyone's alright. I'll be sure to pass on the message. And thank you very much for calling Detective."

"Of course," she replied easily. "Like I said, I didn't want you and Alexis to worry." There was an awkward pause while I tried to think of something to say. Something that would hopefully make this less likely to be the last conversation I ever had with this woman. Unfortunately she beat me to the punch. "Well," the detective said over-brightly. "Unfortunately I've got to go. Things are a bit busy here as I'm sure you can imagine. But give Alexis my best."

"Thank you again Detective. It was nice talking to you again," I told her sincerely.

There was another pause on her end of the line. "You too Martha," she said quietly. "Say hi to Alexis for me." With that she hung up.

I turned to my granddaughter. "That was Detective Beckett," I told her unnecessarily. "She just called to let us know your father was alright. It sounds like they're checking him over at the station, but he seems to be fine."

Alexis collapsed on the couch. "Oh thank god!" After a minute she added, "That was really nice of Detective Beckett to call."

"Yes it was," I agreed as I sat down next to her, patting her shoulder. The woman cared more about his daughter and her well being than almost all the other women he'd ever been with combined. Was more thoughtful than the girl's own mother was most of the time (though even with my intense dislike of that woman, I had to admit Meredith did _mean _well). And don't get me started on that martinet of a second wife... Kate Beckett left _her_ in the dust without even trying.

Alexis sighed and looked at me, "Grams, I wish there was something..."

I smiled sadly, "Me too kiddo, me too."

I leaned back on the couch. Richard had better be as good at persuading women to forgive him as he thought he was. Because I did not want that phone call to be the last time I ever spoke to the lovely Detective.

An opinion that was reinforced only a few days later when I found out that she had, yet again, saved my son's life. He'd willingly walked into the world of Russian mobsters to impress her (oh he'd deny that, say he'd done it to solve the case, but that was pure nonsense. His motivations were 100% about Detective Beckett whether he'd admit it or not). Anyways, he'd walked into a room full of mobsters, gotten in over his head, and she'd had to run in and pull him out of the fire.

I still hadn't figured out a way to repay this woman for saving his life the first time. How on earth could I repay her for saving it twice? Especially since she'd made good on their deal and kicked him out of her life.

I was almost as upset as Richard about the whole thing. After all, not only was the woman strong and smart and funny, she was a bona fide hero. And I owed her doubly more than I could ever repay. My son finally finds a woman worth the attention he lavishes on her and he screws it up.

Or he would have if not for his daughter.

Post-apology they rebuilt their relationship slowly. My son regained his usual sunny disposition and soon Alexis and I were being regaled with stories of his exploits with Detective Beckett. Of bets won against Ryan and Esposito, of criminals caught, of his own insights and Beckett's extraordinary abilities. I even caught the odd glimpse of the woman myself. At the book launch party where she looked stunning as always, even if Richard did almost screw everything up _again_. But they were back on good terms for the Haley Blue Concert where I got to see my son with his arm around the woman like it belonged there. Or better yet, at the Halloween party where Richard waited anxiously for her arrival. And she tricked him, in retaliation for... well... for something or other.

With those two it was always something. I wondered if they realized how they were always circling each other. Circling, moving apart and then moving back. Like some sort of well choreographed dance that everyone but the two of them seemed to know the ending to.

Then Alexis volunteered at the station. And I had to listen to _two_ Castles raving about the amazing Kate Beckett. The woman who'd come into our lives purely by chance was fast becoming a family favourite. Alexis clearly (but probably without realizing it) idolized the older woman a little, and went out of her way to gain her approval. Something the Detective was only too willing to freely give, along with encouragement, advice and friendship.

Katherine Beckett was doing more for my little family than she could ever know. And I found myself wishing there was something I could do in return.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The woman was forced to confront a demon she'd long struggled to keep buried deep. Her mother's killer resurfaced. After she left the precinct Richard came home looking like someone had died. And I could see he was worried, very worried. Not that there was anything any of us could do about it but wait. She had to make the decision on her own. Even if I did want to start a city-wide search for the woman, bring her here and keep her safe.

But then Kate Beckett surprised me. She showed up on our doorstep. After all she and Richard had been through, and all she'd done for this family, it seemed she finally trusted him enough to come to him when she needed help. I'd never been so relieved to see her in my life, not even the first time we met after their big blowout.

She looked good. A little shaky, but far better than I was expecting. But then Kate Beckett was not the type to let things break her. Still, I couldn't stop myself from giving her a hug. No matter how tough she was, after a day like hers, she needed it. She thanked me for it. And I know she meant it. Even if she did still look a little lost. Richard was still looking a little unsure as well, probably so relieved she was there at all that he didn't know what to do next. Well, never let it be said that Martha Rogers doesn't step up to the plate when necessary. In about thirty seconds flat I'd offered the pair leftovers in case the Detective hadn't eaten, hustled Alexis out of the room and told them where we'd be if we were needed.

That woman needed a safe, supportive place right now. And I'd do everything in my power to ensure this was apartment was it. After everything she'd done for us, it was the least I could do.

The pair of them looked so determined when they left. So confident that they could solve the mystery. It was almost a body blow when Richard called to let me know what had actually happened. And my heart went out to Beckett all over again.

I waited anxiously for my son to arrive home, anxious for news of how she was, Alexis having gone to bed long ago. Because it was so late I was surprised when the phone rang. And even more surprised when I realized who was on the other line.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi Martha, it's Kate." She told me.

"Detective Beckett!" I said, sitting up on the couch abruptly. "This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting to hear from you tonight. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Or I will be. I... Oh god, I didn't realize how late it was. I'm so sorry. I didn't wake you did I?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

I dismissed that, "Darling, I'm an actress in New York, in the _theatre_. Late hours are a requirement in my line of work. Don't you even give it a second thought."

"Still, I should have..." Good lord, I could practically feel her remorse down the phone lines. Well, I certainly wasn't going to put up with that.

"Kiddo, I don't care if it's _five _in the morning. You need us, you call. Do you understand me?" I told the woman firmly.

"Thanks Martha," she replied softly.

"Now, what do you need?" I asked her. "Richard's not here at the moment, but if there's anything I can do..."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," the Detective told me. "I assume you heard what happened."

"Yes dear," I admitted. "Richard called. "If there's anything..."

But this time it was the Detective's turn to cut me off. "I'll be fine Martha. But like I said, I just spoke to Castle. He's, well, he's a little shaken. Thinks this is all his fault. I just wanted to tell you, well, that you might want to keep an eye on him."

I paused, momentarily stunned. The woman was calling me to tell me to look after _Richard_? "Thank you Detective. I'll be sure to keep an eye on him."

"Great, good."

"Are you sure there isn't anything _you_ need?" I asked again.

"No," she told me softly. "Not right now. I don't think so. Well… actually… I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" I double-checked. What on earth could Kate Beckett possibly be thanking me for?

"Well, for, for before," she explained. "For opening up your house to me. For being there when I needed you. For… well, for offering." I heard the woman trail off and my heart broke a little bit for her all over again.

"Katherine Beckett," I told her, "you listen to me, and you listen closely. You put up with my nuisance of a son day after day. You keep him in line. You tease him and you're a friend to him. He clearly adores you. And you've saved his life, not once, but twice now. That alone would be enough to ensure a mother's eternal loyalty and friendship, but to top it off you've gone and won over my granddaughter as well. You show more concern for that girl than most of the women in my son's crazy life. And quite apart from all that, I quite like you Detective on your own merits. So I'm sorry to tell you that, whether you like it or not Kate, you're part of this family now. I'll admit we're a little unorthodox, but, well, we stick together. I'm afraid you're stuck with us Detective. So if you ever need anything, don't you hesitate to ask. You've already done more than I can ever repay anyways." I paused, "And I don't even want to hear tell of you apologizing for calling me at one in the morning because you're worried about my son. Not ever again. You feel free to call me anytime, even if you just need to talk."

My speech finally over, I paused, waiting for a response. There was a pause on the other end of the line, then I heard something that sounded suspiciously like someone's breath getting caught in their throat. "Thanks Martha," I heard softly. "That means a lot."

"You're welcome Detective," I replied, just as softly, before brightening. "Now speaking of the time, you should be getting to bed. You've had one hell of a day and you need your rest. Don't you worry about a thing. I'll take care of Richard."

I heard her smile in her voice, "I'm just heading home now. Don't worry. And Martha?"

"Yes Dear?"

"Difficult as your son can be sometimes, I think I'm pretty okay with being stuck with you guys too," she told me.

I smiled, "Goodnight Dear. Get some rest."

"Night Martha." I stayed on the line until I heard the sound of the Detective hanging up as I went over what she'd said. I nodded softly to myself. Yes, that woman would be fine. We'd make sure of it.

I heard my son coming in, looking completely drained, though not as bad as Beckett had led me to believe he might be. Perhaps he'd cheered up on the way home. "How was Beckett?" I asked him.

He paused, "She'll be okay," he told me. "She's strong."

He sent me a soft smile, kissed me on the cheek and headed up to bed himself. I watched him go.

Yes, she certainly was. And she was finally beginning to realize that she belonged in this family. I just wondered if she realized quite what her role would almost certainly be.

After all, I'd already had two unsuitable daughter-in-laws. I figured it was about time I got a good one.

xxxxx

TBC

Up next (and a slight deviation from the traditional format, but I think it'll be fun): The boys on Beckett's shadow.


	6. The Boys on Beckett's Shadow

So about a month ago I had some fun writing Mentalist fic that was entirely conversation. This isn't quite to that degree, but it's close. I think it works pretty well and it was interesting to do. Hope you guys like it.

xxxxx

The Boys on Beckett's shadow

xxxxx

Detectives Ryan and Esposito were sitting around their desks facing each other, their legs stretched out comfortably reading case files. It was a slow day at the twelfth precinct and most of the detectives were taking the opportunity to catch up on paperwork. Slow days were good for admin, and good for a breather, but the endless stacks of files could get extremely tedious if you didn't have a distraction of some kind. Some people used an iPod, others the radio, others a game of trashcan basketball played in the breaks between files. The two homicide detectives were guilty of all of those and then some, but lately they'd found another game. One that they'd perfected over the last few months.

"He moved any closer yet?" Esposito asked his partner as he made a note in the file he was reading.

Ryan glanced up from his own file to check on the pair across the room. "Nope," he confirmed quietly. "They're still sitting on opposite sides of the desk, still both reading files. Closest they've gotten so far was when he tried to sneak her chocolate bar out of her desk drawer and she almost slammed it on his hand. D'you hear his excuse for being here today?"

Esposito smirked, "Something about needing to get out of the house to escape play rehearsal. Told Beckett he couldn't take another afternoon pretending to be a southern gentleman. Then he pouted begged her to have pity on him and save him from his mother."

"Didn't he use that same story two weeks ago?" Ryan asked his partner.

"Yeah, but it was a different play that time," Esposito replied.

Ryan smileded innocently, "Mrs. R. sure seems to be going through a run of auditions lately."

"If you believe Castle at least," Esposito muttered under his breath.

Ryan grinned, "What, you think he's _lying_ to her so he can watch her do paperwork?"

Esposito turned his head, deciding to risk a glance at the couple, "Nah probably not," he conceded. "Mrs. R. probably does have a play. But he is here an awful lot."

"It makes ya wonder," Ryan told him.

"Oh yeah," Esposito muttered idly before going back to his paperwork.

"Still, it's a really slow day today." Ryan remarked, "He hasn't even moved to her side of the desk yet." The female detective and her consultant played a well-choreographed game. If she was sitting at her desk for any length of time it was usually a fair bet that before long the writer would be right up in her personal space. And once that happened it was only a matter of time before the fun began.

"I know," Esposito almost sighed. "Castle's being cautious today, and we've already found two files that would give us an excuse to interrupt them."

"But it's no fun interrupting them if they're not going to even do something mildly embarrassing," Ryan pointed out.

"Catching them just sitting across from each totally isn't worth it. Castle needs to step up his game bro," Esposito concluded.

"I know man," Ryan agreed sadly. "How else are we supposed to entertain ourselves doing paperwork if he's going to be sensible?"

"He's really letting the team down," Esposito said with a shake of the head..

Suddenly something struck Ryan, "Hey you don't think they caught on do you?" he asked. "I mean, they could be doing this to mess with us."

Esposito's pen paused briefly on the page. "Nah," he said eventually as he resumed making notes. "If Beckett had caught on we'd both be dead by now."

Ryan's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, "True," he admitted.

The pair lapsed into silence, which was only broken when the writer got out of his chair, asked his companion something and wandered into the break room. "Hey, he's getting her coffee," Ryan told his partner.

"We've already decided that doesn't count. He's been doing that for months now."

"Yeah, remember when he first bought that thing?" Ryan asked. It was strange, they'd only had the espresso machine for a little over a year now, but it felt like much longer. And all of the detectives were very glad for the vastly improved source of caffeine. It was almost a necessity when you had a boss who didn't think anything of calling you in to work at all hours.

Esposito snickered. "That was a good day. Remember how Beckett wouldn't drink the stuff for at least two days afterwards just to spite him?"

"Yeah, until she finally caved," Ryan agreed.

"It is all about the caffeine," Esposito agreed. The two men looked up and clinked their own coffee mugs together in a toast to the wonders of caffeine.

Ryan went back to his report. After a few minutes he continued, "You know I almost miss those days."

"Hm?"

"When Beckett almost couldn't stand him. When she did everything she possibly could to get him to go away."

"Telling the rank and file about him," Esposito added. "Embellishing all the stories about him and how he drove her crazy."

"Then watching them all ask her about it the next time they saw her at a crime scene while she tried not to grit her teeth," Ryan added fondly.

"The best ones were always the ones who called her his muse," Esposito smirked.

"Oh dude, I thought she was going to kill Morrison when he said that!" Ryan replied.

"Remember that one poor rookie who misheard the story and thought the two of them were already sleeping together?" Esposito asked with a smile. "Poor kid almost quit the force."

"Oh those were good times," Ryan said with a shake of his head.

"Still, you have to admit, Castle was useful," Esposito pointed out. "Even back then."

"Oh he was definitely useful," Ryan agreed. "Sometimes. Maybe not quite as useful as he seemed to think he was."

"Well, nobody's_ that_ useful."

"No."

"But the man does tell a good story," Esposito admitted.

"There _is _a reason he's a multi-millionaire best-selling author," Ryan added.

"Oh that's right. You've read all his books haven't you?" Esposito teased. "You're almost as bad as Beckett."

But Ryan just shook his head. "Nobody's as bad as Beckett. Even if Castle'll never know it. And his books are pretty good.

"So you say," Esposito said skeptically.

"Hey! You've fallen for his stuff too," Ryan insisted. "Remember that first case he was officially consulting on, he convinced us all the killer was some skeeze who lived in 8B?"

Esposito was forced to admit defeat with a nod. Still, there was some comfort, "Even Beckett bought that for a minute."

"She'll deny it though," Ryan pointed out.

"Yeah, but she still totally bought it," Esposito pointed out.

"Oh, she totally bought it," Ryan agreed." "Castle _does _think outside the box."

"Maybe too outside the box." Esposito tried not to remember some of his more notable near-disasters.

"Hey, remember that time he called a prostitute?" Ryan asked.

Esposito had to duck his head to stifle his laughter. "And she chased him around the precinct?" He'd never thought he'd see that. Kate Beckett literally chasing someone around the desks like two children.

"It's been a while since she's done that," Ryan remarked idly.

"Yeah," Esposito agreed. "And it's a shame because watching him dodge around the desks while she runs after him with murder in her eyes is always fun."

"Wonder what would happen if she ever caught him," Ryan mused.

"Besides a twisted ear?"

"Think one of these days they'll ever move beyond that?"

Esposito looked at his partner, his smile wide. "What, you're not suggesting that one of these days he'll grab her and plant one on her. Right here? In the precinct?"

Ryan shrugged, "Man does have serious balls where Beckett's concerned."

Esposito just shook his head, "Maybe bro, but I doubt it. He respects her too much to do that now. He respects how hard she's worked to get where she is."

"He's always respected her though," Ryan argued. "Remember that look on his face after his first real case when she talked the girl with the knife out of the laundry room. That man was completely captivated whether he realized it or not."

"Yeah, okay," Esposito admitted. "It's probably true that he's always respected her, but now he knows what this means to her, I'm not sure he does anything to her on the job. Even if it would be awesome. And a huge upset in the betting pool if it happens elsewhere. But still, I think he knows her too well for that now."

"Maybe," Ryan said with a shrug. "Oh, he's coming back with her coffee now."

"Any inappropriate invasion of personal space going on?" Esposito asked quietly.

"Nah," Ryan said. "He just set the cup in front of her. Then they exchanged a smile and went back to whatever they were doing. I think he's sketching out a scene for his novel."

"Or so he says," Esposito added.

"Yeah." Ryan paused. He really should be paying more attention to his reports, but they were just so damn boring. "Hey, you know it's not just him who likes teasing her. Remember when his ex-wife showed up? "

"Oh yeah, the deep fried twinkie," Esposito drawled.

"I thought Beckett was going to die laughing when she first called him kitten?" Ryan said with a smirk

"When who called him kitten?" Esposito asked. "Beckett or the deep-fried twinkie?" Because he was pretty sure both had happened.

"Both," Ryan said with a grin.

"Well they wouldn't be Beckett and Castle if they weren't baiting each other," Esposito pointed out.

"That was the case where he saved her life," Ryan said quietly.

"Yeah," Esposito replied just as quietly.

The two men paused briefly. Nobody liked to talk about it. They all covered it with jokes. They had to, because the truth was they all knew any one of them could get shot in the line any day. And neither one of them wanted to think about what _could _have happened if Castle hadn't been able to distract their perp or if Beckett wasn't such a damn good shot. Thank god the writer wasn't actually as irresponsible as he sometimes pretended to be.

Ryan was the first to lighten the mood, "That makes the score what, 5 to 1 for Beckett in terms of lives saved?"

"Something like," Esposito agreed. "Castle needs to catch up."

Ryan shook his head in disagreement, "He hasn't got a hope."

"True. The guy isn't even a good witness," Esposito remembered.

"For a writer, you'd expect he'd be better at the details sometimes," Ryan added.

"Must be just when he's making them up himself, I guess."

"Or maybe he has a big book where he keeps track of them all somewhere," Ryan suggested. Remember that time he couldn't even remember the colour of the suspect's car when he saw it drive away?"

"Oh yeah, the jewel thief case," Eposito replied. "That was one creepy S.O.B."

"Yeah it was." Ryan agreed. "But it had its bright spots. What with Beckett and.."

"the dress," Esposito finished for his partner. They shared a look before grinning briefly and looking away just as quickly.

"I still say she should have interrogated the guy in that dress," Ryan muttered.

"That would have been awesome," Esposito agreed. "Poor guy wouldn't have stood a chance."

"It almost would have been cruel," Ryan continued. "I mean, Beckett on her own's intimidating enough, but in formal wear?"

"It was different alright," Esposito agreed. "But she pulled it off."

"They looked good together. Her and Castle. They made a cute couple."

"A cute couple?" Esposito asked sounding scandalized. "What are you suddenly the editor for Teen People?"

"All I'm saying is that they looked nice standing beside each other all dressed up and walking the red carpet," Ryan defended.

"Just don't let Beckett hear you say that," Esposito warned the younger man.

"Thanks man. I don't have a death wish," Ryan replied somewhat scathingly.

"Speaking of having a death wish," Esposito said, trying to change the subject. "Castle doing anything fun yet?"

"Nah, not yet," Ryan said with a shake of his head. "He seems pretty engrossed in his notes for his book, or whatever it is he's doing. He's glancing at her every minute or so, but that's about it."

"I'm surprised she hasn't yelled at him for it," Esposito admitted.

Ryan just shrugged. "I guess she's gotten used to it."

The pair lapsed into silence again; Ryan broke it after about a minute. "Hey didn't the betting pool start after that dress incident?"

"The one about when they'd end up sleeping together maybe," Esposito agreed. "The one about how long he'd stick around before she killed him was up and running _way_ longer than that." The betting pools surrounding Castle and Beckett were the worst kept secret in the 12th precinct. Everybody knew about them, well, everybody except Castle and Beckett of course. And sometimes Esposito wasn't even so sure of Castle's ignorance.

"Well yeah, but we started that bet the day Castle showed up in the Captain's office wanting to follow Beckett around all day," Ryan pointed out.

"Oh was she ever mad!" Esposito grinned.

Ryan smiled. "I know. She was the weird combination of flattered, angry, shocked and irritated. It was _great._"

"Don't think either of them realized what they were getting into that day," Esposito remarked.

"Nah, or how much fun they'd have pissing each other off," Ryan added.

"Hey, it wasn't all that long before they were doin' a lot more than just pissing each other off," Esposito figured it needed to be said. "Remember that kidnapping case, when Will showed up again? I thought he and Castle were gonna come to blows or something, but Castle actually showed some restraint."

"Yeah, and remember Will's face when Beckett took his side or supported anything he said?" Ryan asked. "Remember when Will realized she had no problem with him in the interrogation room with her?"

"Forget the interrogation," Esposito shot back. "Remember when she trusted him enough to actually _make_ the ransom drop? For a woman who doesn't trust easy that was some serious trust she gave him."

"And that next case when Will got shot, who was the one who went to talk to her, who comforted her?" Ryan asked sincerely. In a lot of ways Castle really was good for her.

"Who made her think it'd be a good idea to make everybody come in at 6am," Esposito couldn't help snarking back.

"Yeah, well, that kind of dedication has its bad side," Ryan admitted.

"No kidding," Esposito remarked dryly.

Ryan tried to be optimistic about the whole thing, "Still, we got the guy in the end."

"Yeah. And after that case is when Castle left," Esposito reminded him.

"Well he didn't so much leave as she threw him out," Ryan couldn't help correcting.

"I gave him the file you know," Esposito admitted.

Ryan sighed. "I figured," he said with a shrug.

Esposito seemed relieved at the lack of judgment in his partner's tone. "You did not." He quickly snapped back.

"I did too," Ryan insisted. "Who else would it have been, Lanie? The Captain?" Both of them were far too aware of Beckett's love of privacy to have even considered it.

"Fair enough," Esposito conceded. "And hey, he did find_ something_."

"Still, she was _pissed_, for like a _month," _Ryan pointed out.

"Alright, she was a little grumpy," Esposito admitted.

"Completely irritable," was Ryan's opinion.

"A bit demanding," Esposito allowed.

"Utterly 100% focused on the job," Ryan agreed.

"Barely ever took a break," Esposito admitted.

"Refused to even mention his name," Ryan couldn't help pointing out.

"Let alone that she missed him," Esposito said with a sigh.

"Or that what he'd done may not have been completely horrible," Ryan replied.

"Heaven help anyone who thought to suggest she take him back," Esposito added.

"Did anybody…" Ryan couldn't help asking. He hadn't heard about anybody leaving the precinct during that time (and he figured that's almost what would have had to happen), but you never know.

"Nah, nobody was quite that stupid," Esposito told him..

"And he came back eventually," Ryan said with a smile.

"Yeah, you didn't think he would," Esposito gloated.

"Nah, nah,' Ryan hastened to correct. "I said I didn't think _she'd take him_ back. That's a whole different thing. I assumed he'd try and squeeze his way back in eventually."

"And before you know it, they're back to their old selves," Esposito concluded.

"Actually," Ryan paused to consider, "they were almost better."

"Too overconfident though," Esposito couldn't help pointing out.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "Thinking they could take us down."

"Thinking they could beat us, at our own game!" Esposito said scandalized.

"Like they could have solved that case before us if both of our cases hadn't been connected."

"Oh, if they hadn't been connected we totally would have wont hat bet," Esposito agreed. "Even if Castle did get the better insult in when he called you honey-milk."

"There is nothing wrong with being an attentive partner," Ryan insisted.

"Dude, there's attentive and then there's just plain whipped," Esposito shot back.

But Ryan was used to this sort of teasing from his partner. And he'd finally figured out a way to deal with it. "And how's your girlfriend doing?" he asked. "Oh, that's right…"

"Dude, I don't need a girlfriend. Ain't no woman who can tie me down!" Esposito insisted.

"Sure," Ryan told him skeptically.

Esposito ignored him. "And Castle's almost as bad as you are. Seriously. We almost managed to make him nervous about that damn bet, but then he just _glances_ at Beckett and he's all gung ho to raise the stakes, he's so confident in her."

"Sometimes it's like he thinks she's Wonder woman," Ryan agreed.

"Or the next best thing."

"And sometimes he's one of the only people she'll ever let see her be human," Ryan added softly.

Esposito paused briefly then. It was true. The relationship between them certainly was complex. "He's also one of the few people who worries her. Remember when we found those photos of her as a model? What was her first concern?"

"That we'd show 'em to Castle," Ryan said with a nod and a smile.

"And now we've got a little blackmail material," Esposito pointed out. "Iif we ever need it."

"Or at least we've got a little something to offset all the stuff she's got on us," Ryan said, describing the truth of the matter.

"That too," Esposito admitted.

"It's hard not to hate him a little bit though sometimes. He can call the mayor whenever he wants. He picks up models with ease. Must be fun havin' his money," Ryan mused.

"Hey we could get models," Esposito countered before reconsidering. "Well, I could."

"Yeah? How's that goin' for you?" Ryan asked.

"Shut up."

They lapsed into silence again. This time it was Esposito who broke it. "Think she even realizes how much more fun she seems to have when he's around? I mean, it's like she's made a game of seeing how many times she can convince him something's true when it isn't."

"Like that time we convinced him there was a murderous alien in the sewer system?" Ryan asked.

Esposito nodded before adding his own example. "Or when she claims not to like con movies, just to see him get all annoyed?"

"Or better yet when she has a date, and he gets jealous," Ryan suggested.

"Oh he gets so jealous," Esposito nodded..

"Even if he denies it."

"He totally denies it," Esposito agreed. "But you and I, we know."

"Everybody knows," Ryan corrected.

"But we realized first," Esposito insisted. Unwilling to concede defeat.

"Well, first after Lanie at least," Ryan added.

"Obviously," Esposito conceded. Lanie knew almost everything first. She was Beckett's confidante. And an invaluable source of gossip. The betting pool was depending on her for information. "The man even dedicated his book to her."

"Well, she is his inspiration," Ryan pointed out.

Esposito shook his head. It was more than that. "True, but d'you see her face?"

"Yeah, that was nice," Ryan admitted. "She looked happy. For half a minute at least. Then he screwed it up again. Nice of him to include us in the dedication to even if we weren't named."

"Neither was Beckett. She only got initials," Esposito pointed out. "Course that was still more than we got…"

"Yeah, well it's about time we get some of the credit we deserve," Ryan agreed. "After all, we make them look good."

"Oh totally," Esposito agreed.

"And then there was the vampire case," Ryan said with a shake of the head.

Esposito grinned, "Where Castle totally freaked out."

"Yeah, he's not always the bravest guy is he?" Ryan admitted.

"Nah, but that's why he needs Beckett to protect him." Esposito agreed.

"Yeah, and he certainly stuck close to her that case. I think that was the first time we ever caught them in, well, let's call it a _compromising position_," Ryan said suggestively.

Esposito grinned at he memory. "When we walked in on them, their faces barely inches apart. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud bro."

"At least he admits that there's something between them," Ryan conceded.

"Oh he's never made a secret of the fact that he thinks she's very attractive."

"Oh I know. And then remember at his Halloween party? He couldn't keep his eyes off the door for longer than two minutes, waiting for her to show up," Ryan remembered. "If Beckett hadn't made an appearance I think he would have started pining for her at the window like a little lost puppy."

"And when she came in wearing that trench coat, you could so tell he was hoping for something tight, short and low-cut underneath," Esposito replied.

"And then the poor guy got an alien in the face," Ryan said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "Hey, d'you have any idea what that was even payback for?"

"With those two?" Esposito paused before shrugging. "Who the hell knows? Could be anything."

Ryan paused briefly to check something off on his report. "How long d'you think it took him to figure out how she took her coffee?"

"Honestly?" Esposito asked. "I'd say a day, maybe two. Now if you're asking how long it took him to get comfortable enough to bring her some, well that's a different story. And it took even longer for her to accept that he'd do it, and she liked it. That's when she started to just sit and wait for him to bring it. Now she almost expects it, without even realizing the change."

Ryan shrugged. "I guess he hovers so much it was only a matter of time anyways."

"He sticks so close I'm surprised there hasn't been more incidents like that one in the doorway to the break room," Esposito admitted. "You know, where she turned around quickly and tripped over him because he was right behind her."

"At least he had the decency to catch her before she hit the ground," Ryan pointed out with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I somehow don't thinks he minded," Esposito agreed happily. "Beckett, on the other hand… Well, I definitely remember her face getting a little pink."

"And he sure wasn't in any hurry to let her go," Ryan added with a snicker. "I think he stood there for a full five seconds just holding her against his chest staring at her." Ryan glanced quickly at the pair across the room. "Although Castle's certainly not hovering now. It's weird."

"It is weird." Esposito admitted. "Castle may be insane, but at least he's usually more entertaining."

"Like that time he showed up with duct tape on his pants for no good reason?" Ryan asked.

"That's another one that I just don't want to know about," Esposito told his partner honestly. "That was another fun case for watching the two of them. Between the dead bridesmaid, a drugged groomsmen, a stalled wedding and Castle's long lost love…"

"Well the man does have a famously sordid past," Ryan pointed out.

"Ah, the lives of the rich and famous."

"I thought Beckett was gonna blow a gasket when she saw those surveillance photos of him kissing the bride to be," Ryan admitted. He'd certainly been concerned when he'd seen the contents. Beckett had masked any jealous she may have felt surprisingly well, but there'd definitely been hints of it there, even if the woman never got too ruffled. "But she was surprisingly cool."

"They got into a bit of a snit about the whole thing though," Esposito admitted.

"Yeah, even if she denied the argument," Ryan said.

"Castle didn't though," Esposito couldn't help pointing out.

"You think maybe it's about time we asked him what his intentions are?" Ryan asked.

"Towards Beckett?" Esposito double-checked. When his partner nodded he continued. "You nuts? She'll kill us."

"Only if she finds out," Ryan pointed out. "I sure as hell wasn't planning on telling her. And I doubt Castle would. And after all, he does have a bit of a reputation."

Esposito shook his head, "He also doled out 100 grand to help her solve her mother's murder." That alone pretty much told the detective where the writer stood when it came to Kate Beckett.

"That's true," Ryan admitted. "And he _was_ the one who pulled her off Rathbone when she wouldn't give up on the CPR."

"Besides," Esposito pointed out. "I don't know if Castle even realizes what his intentions are. At least not yet. He wouldn't even admit to being jealous of Beckett's date with Decker."

Ryan smirked at that memory. "Oh that was fun, telling him about rescuing the puppies."

Esposito smiled back. "And remember how much he wanted her to want to cancel her date?"

"Dude that sentence was just confusing."

"You knew what I meant."

"Well yeah, I guess. But verb-confusion much? The writer over there would not be impressed."

"Shut up. At least my sentence structure wasn't as bad as their dates turned out to be. We should have known Beckett wouldn't be able to relax in the middle of a case," Esposito said with a groan.

"Oh I bet that evening was just a train wreck," Ryan agreed. "Too bad we couldn't see it. I can just imagine the two of them at the restaurant."

"Probably ignored the people they were with completely," Esposito mused.

"May as well have just gone to dinner with each other," Ryan pointed out. "I'm sure they both talked to each other more than their dates. And at least Castle'd be able to understand her obsession with her cases. He's as bad as she is."

Both men paused.

"You know," Esposito couldn't help pointing out. "Castle _is_ good at getting Beckett to relax. Even in the middle of a case."

"And they do have fun together,"

"And they definitely have chemistry."

"And they're comfortable together," Ryan added. "They've been sitting there for half an hour sharing snacks."

That got Esposito's attention. "I thought you said they weren't doing anything worth interrupting?"

Ryan just shook his head. "They're not. But they're still really in synch."

"Guess we won't be able to add to that list of compromising situations we've caught them in. At least not today," Esposito sighed.

"Doesn't' look like it," Ryan agreed. "Ah well, we'll always have the betting pool though."

"What's that up to now bro?" Esposito asked.

"I don't know exactly," Ryan admitted. "We're definitely talking in the thousands though."

Esposito whistled softly to himself, "Someone's gonna win a quite a chunk 'a change."

"Well, yeah, except that it's divided into a bunch of categories," Ryan pointed out.

"True. Wadda we have now? How long until first kiss, how long until first date, how long until they end up in bed together…." Esposito started listing the topics people could bet on.

"Didn't we also have a bunch of wagers on locations as well?" Ryan asked.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about those. Those're fun." Esposito grinned.

"I still like Karpowski's suggested setting for first kiss the best," Ryan admitted.

"Karpowki's?" Esposito asked. He couldn't remember hers. There were so many it was hard to keep them all straight.

Ryan smirked, "She's got fifty bucks riding on next to the espresso machine after Castle spills coffee on Beckett blouse again. Only this time he tries to help… umm… clean it up."

Esposito chuckled. That had been a good one. "Only thing we've had trouble getting bets for is how long it lasts when it does happen."

"No kidding," Ryan smiled. "Everyone wants to put their money on forever."

"Bunch 'a romantics at this station I guess," Esposito remarked.

"Nah, they just know a solid bet when they see it," Ryan countered.

"Wonder if Beckett and Castle know enough to put their money with everyone else's…" Esposito couldn't help wondering.

"If they don't now, they will eventually bro," Ryan told him confidently. "Let's just hope they figure it out sooner rather than later."

"Amen to that my friend," Esposito agreed.

Suddenly Ryan sat up in his chair, "Hey grab that file would ya? They're leaning over Beckett's desk awfully close. I think their noses are almost touching. Ten bucks says she blushes when we interrupt."

Esposito stood quickly, "Oh you're on. Let's go."

The pair of detectives stood and walked quickly across the bullpen. Castle was clearly trying to hook the Detective's interest in whatever story he was selling, whatever little game they were playing. Both Ryan and Esposito wondered how long it'd be before the writer realized Beckett was the only woman he wanted to play with.

Because until that the day, the homicide detectives were determined to have their own fun.

xxxxx

TBC

Next: Lanie on Writer-boy


	7. Lanie on WriterBoy

My apologizes, this chapter got delayed for a variety of reasons that I won't go into. But it's done now. Here it is, I hope you enjoy. As always thanks to my many lovely reviewers. The fic now has over 100+ reviews, so Woo Hoo for that! Thanks guys; you're awesome.

xxxxx

Lanie on Writer-boy

xxxxx

I'd heard of Richard Castle before I'd met him obviously. I mean, not only was the man one of New York's local pet celebrities, but one of my closest friends loved his books. Personally I didn't really have strong feelings about him one way or another. His books are certainly entertaining, and he gets more right than he gets wrong, which is sayin' somethin'. But I'd never really given the man himself much thought. Now I'm not saying that I've _never_ picked up a tabloid from a newsstand or flipped through a gossip mag in the checkout line of a grocery store. And yeah, I enjoy those photos of celebrities wearing ugly outfits or walking to go get coffee as much as the next person. But I never felt more than idle curiosity where Richard Castle was concerned. Based on the brief snippets of the interviews I _had_ read (or, more likely, that Beckett had read _to _me) he seemed charming enough, if a bit lacking in depth. But then, what did that matter to me? We travelled in different circles.

Well, at least in _theory_.

In theory crime novelists and city medical examiners don't develop a kind of freaky little friendship. No, not _that _kind 'a freaky. But our relationship is strange. For one it only exists because of a third party. Now I'm not sayin' that Castle'd have completely ignored me if it wasn't for Beckett, or that he'd 'a been rude, or really treated me differently than he did. In fact, I'm fairly certain that Richard Castle would have behaved exactly the same towards yours truly, Kate or no Kate. But if Kate'd been any other homicide detective we wouldn't have met. Well, actually that's not true. We'd only have met _once_. At that first crime scene with the girl in the pool, just like in one of his books.

Just as I'd expected he'd been charming, a bit immature maybe, but still charming. At the time I was a distracted, too busy wondering what Beckett thought of the whole thing. Especially given how big a fan she was, and why she'd become one. I wasn't surprised to see that she'd basically decided to play it as professional as possible, and not give him an inch. Which, fine, girl doesn't want a little secret rendezvous with a minor celebrity that's her business. I'm not sure I'd 'a made the same decision in her shoes, but I'm not judging.

After all, Richard Castle was just supposed to be just a blip on the radar. An interesting blip, maybe. A story to tell the potential grandkids. After all, we had all just met a celebrity. But he _was_ supposed to be a once-off.

Yeah, we all know how that worked out.

Kate stormed down to the morgue to have a bit of a shout. I let her. Then I, talked her down and sent her back to the station to deal with her new, and slightly irregular, consultant. It seemed that the 12th precinct had a new addition in the form of one Mr. Richard Castle. The man wanted to shadow Kate, apparently for _research_ purposes. Never heard that term for it before.

Because it was more like some sort of messed up mating dance, with Beckett as an unwilling participant, at least in the beginning.

Whatever it was, it meant that I got the pleasure of the writer's company on a fairly regular basis. He was always polite, always courteous. He knew what he was talkin' about, asked sensible questions. Well, most of the time. Sometimes he chattered on like a squirell, but Beckett nipped that sort of thing in the bud pretty quick. I liked the man, I'll admit, but I wasn't his target. That was always Beckett.

I wasn't always sure quite what he was up to. Castle can be so playful and lighthearted that it's hard to tell what he's really thinking. And so while it was clear that he liked Beckett quite a bit, and definitely found her interesting; it was hard to say how into things he really was.

But slowly things started to change, most obviously from Kate's perspective. She got more comfortable with writer-boy, started to let him in. When she told me that she'd told him about her mother you coulda knocked me over with a feather. But it was true. They were getting closer. Even Castle was changing, taking her a bit more seriously more time he spent with her. And he spent a _lot_ of time with her.

I didn't have a whole lotta first hand knowledge though. Whenever I saw him it was almost always in the morgue, and while it _was _always with Beckett, it was also almost always in reference to a case. Esposito gave me the highlights of what went on at the precinct, but it wasn't the same.

Then girlfriend surprised me one evening when she stopped by the morgue and practically begged me to help her get ready for some charity ball Castle had conned her into going to with him. Well, maybe not _quite_ conned. It was for a case after all, but pretty damn close. And Becket was freak-in' out. I wish I could say she was calm and cool about the whole thing, but that'd be a lie. For one, she had nothing to wear. Seriously, I remember making a mental note to take her shopping. Every woman should have at least one dress in the back of their closet for emergencies. There's a reason people talk about their little black dress. I almost couldn't believe that a woman as practical as Beckett didn't have one. Of course, it didn't matter because Castle swooped to the rescue. You coulda knocked me over with a feather when Beckett opened that box he sent. Her too I'd guess. The dress was absolutely gorgeous and it fit her like a glove. The man obviously had fabulous taste, but I was more interested in knowing how he'd figured out her size.

I wandered over to the precinct later that evening looking for Beckett. I knew she'd be there. Esposito'd already called me to tell me about the arrest. (Hey, we have a mutual arrangement that keeps both us up to date on the latest news. Don't judge me.) Esposito also made it clear that both he and Ryan had quite enjoyed the dress. I could well imagine. I imagined Castle'd liked it too. The woman had looked fabulous when I had shooed her out of her apartment. But what wasn't the most important thing.

What really important right now was that, case or no case, Kate'd walked a red carpet on Rick Castle's arm and I wanted _details_.

But it wasn't Beckett I found at the precinct, but Castle himself, apparently grabbing himself a coffee. "Evening Mr. Castle," I said as I walked up.

He turned, mildly surprised, but certainly not displeased. "Why Dr. Parish, this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you here at this time of night?"

I shrugged noncommittally, "Just lookin' for my girl. Wonderin' if she wanted to grab a coffee or something." Castle nodded and I continued, "I heard you made an arrest."

"Yeah, but he's just the lackey, not the guy calling the shots," Castle confirmed. Beckett's still in with him getting details.

"And you're out here," I surmised. "Aren't you supposed to be shadowing _her_? Kinda defeats the point if you're not in the same room."

Castle grinned. "Yeah, well, as fun as the experience is, sometimes the daily practicalities of police work get a little tiresome. And when that happens I take a bit of a coffee break. Perk of being just a consultant."

"Uh huh," I said, eyebrow raised.

"They've been in there a while though; I'm sure Beckett'll be out in a few minutes if you want to wait. But I'm afraid you'll be stuck with me in the meantime," he added with a flirtatious grin.

'Course I was used to the flirting by now. Enjoyed it too. "Well that doesn't sound like a hardship," I replied with a grin of my own.

I grabbed Ryan's chair and rolled it over. I couldn't talk to Beckett about the event yet, but that didn't mean I could get some information. "So how was the fundraiser? Or has Richard Castle been to so many that they're old hat now?"

He laughed, "Well, I've been to more than my share. More than I've ever really wanted to attend to be honest," he glanced at me then. "Both of my ex-wives were fans, and even now I'm expected to put in appearances at a few of them." He shrugged, "Sometimes they're fun, but a lot of the time I wish I could just give money and be done with it."

"The trials of the rich and famous," I drawled.

Castle certainly wasn't offended by my teasing. If anything his grin widened. "Yeah, well, we all have our crosses to bear Dr. Parish. And even if my mother _did_ end up crashing the party and I got auctioned off like cattle, this one had its highlights."

I was surprised by the first half of the sentence, but figured I could get the details form Kate later. I was more interested in what he considered the highlights since he seemed surprisingly indifferent to the lifestyle in general for a so-called playboy writer. "Like?" I asked.

"Like Beckett whipping a badge out of god knows where and arresting a guy," he admitted. "You know, Montgomery's always complaining about how the NYPD never gets any good press. I'd bet they're image'd improve if the Detectives wore formal wear all. Especially if they look like Beckett," he added suggestively with a glance in my direction.

But I knew what he was anglin' for. I'd been baited by a man before and knew when not to bite. "If you're expecting me to take offense at that or call you on sexism, think again." I told him. "I certainly wouldn't mind seeing Ryan and Esposito in tuxes or tails, and girlfriend was _workin' _that dress."

"Yes, she certainly was…" he murmured absently.

I grinned, here we go. "You have good taste Mr. Castle."

He glanced at me, "Hm?"

"The dress," I clarified. "It was lovely. I know a lotta girls who'd kill for a dress like that."

"Oh, yeah, well my mother helped a bit with that," he admitted.

I always forgot all the female influence in the man's life. It made sense. Still, there was one thing… "She help you with the size too?" I asked. "Or are you one of those men who claim to be able to tell a woman's dress size at fifty paces?"

"Well Dr. Parish, I've always been interested in the female form," he replied suavely. I rolled my eyes and he chuckled before answering more seriously. "Combination of things really, mother's input, my own opinion, and the fact that I happened to glance at the tag of her coat earlier today when I helped her put it on," he admitted. "But don't tell anyone, it ads to my mystique."

I snorted. "Your secret's safe with me," I told him. I was going to ask for more details about their evening when we were interrupted by Beckett herself.

"Castle," she called. "If you're done your coffee-break, it looks like Reynolds' going to give up his shot-caller. We're going to be heading out soon. You gonna come with or do you want to head home?" Before he could reply she noticed my presence. "Oh, hey Lanie," she added.

I nodded in response, but Castle was far more enthusiastic. "Nah, I'll totally come." he said immediately. "Out on the bust? Come _on_, that's cool."

I watched in amusement as Beckett rolled her eyes. "Alright, well we'll be heading out in about 15 minutes so do what you've gotta do," she told him. Then she turned to me, "Hey. You need anything?"

I grabbed my coat, "Just wondering if you wanted to grab coffee, but it looks like you're busy."

Beckett nodded, slightly distracted. "Yeah." Then she turned to me, "Rain-check?"

I nodded, "Definitely. Just give me a call."

"O.K. I'll see you later Dr. Parish," she added.

"Later Beckett," I replied. "Good night Mr. Castle."

"Night Doc," he said with a grin. "I'm sure I'll see you later down at the morgue."

"I'll be the one in the medical scrubs."

"I… won't."

I smirked, "Bye Castle," I called over my shoulder. I grinned. Well, clearly Castle was still attracted to her. I'd seen the dopey look on his face when he'd been rememberin' that dress. And he'd paid enough attention to figure out her dress size because no matter what Beckett _claimed _he knew she might not have a dress. Hell, he'd been thoughtful enough to send her the dress in the first place. This wasn't exactly shaping up to be some casual tumble in bed anymore. I couldn't wait to see what happened next. Forget Esposito, Castle himself was a way better source of information. Maybe I should drop by more often. As I headed towards the doors I heard muffled voices. They sounded suspiciously like Kate yelling at the writer, something about personal safety and… cell phones ringing? I shook my head. I should _definitely_ drop by more often.

I didn't get to drop by as often as I liked. But from what I did see they were getting cozier. They were more at ease with each other. Reading between the lines of what Kate didn't say, it sounded like Castle had been there for her when Will came back and then afterwards when Will got hurt. No, the relationship with writer boy was looking less and less like a nuisance and more like a real thing.

Then he looked into her mother's case.

Kate froze him out fast as she could. And things were t a stalemate. I had no idea what would happen.

I do know that Beckett was good and mad when Montgomery informed her 'bout Castle's cops-gone-wild photo shoot at the precinct. I'm not sure if the Captain was tryin' to engineer a reconciliation of if he really was just in it for the good PR. Maybe both. After all, if Castle came back there might be more opportunities for that PR to happen. Not sayin' he didn't care about Beckett's feelings at all, but happy rich writers keep the politicians happy. And the pair of them had obviously made a good team. But whatever the reasons, Castle was again allowed to cross the threshold of the precinct, Castle was back. A least for a day. Then a single day somehow got extended into a single _case_. I know I was surprised as hell to see him at my crime scene that evenin', but Beckett seemed okay with it so I shrugged it off.

Even volunteered to ride in the hearse with him to do my girl a favour. Writer boy'd been following her around like an eager little puppy doin' tricks and looking for praise from an owner who was less than impressed. I figured any minute Beckett might strangle him, so I helped her get rid of him. That's when I got a bit of a shock. Turns out Beckett'd left out some details about Castle's involvement in her mother's case. Now don't get me wrong, I was still furious with the man. She tells him about her mother and he goes _behind her back_ and looks into it on his own time? Can the man even say personal boundaries? On the other hand though, he had found something, and that boy was absolutely crushed that she'd shut down on him. It was like she'd taken his heart and stomped all over it in her fabulous heels. The fact that he'd wounded her just as much didn't make it any better.

'Course before I could say anythin' about it my hearse was hijacked.

Obviously I called Beckett right away. She said she'd be there as fast as she could after making sure everyone (including Castle) was okay. I hung up my phone and turned to the writer, "You okay Castle?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "May have a bruise on my knee; it kinda stings."

"Oh poor baby," I snapped.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," I told him abruptly. And then we lapsed into an awkward silence. After a few seconds I decided the hell with it. "I could kill you, ya' know?"

He turned abruptly, "I know, alright? Trust me, _I know_. And yeah, I screwed up royally, but…"

"But nothing! I don't care what you _found._ That's not the point!" I snapped. He deserved a little bit of a lecture, and I'm not sure Beckett'd ever be up to giving it. Things were too raw. And writer-boy deserved to be ripped a new one. "The point is she_ trusted_ you!" Castle looked a bit taken aback by that. "Yeah, that's right! You heard me. Kate Beckett trusted _you_. She told _you_ what happened. Willingly. Worst thing that ever happens to her in her life, and who does she tell? Her irritating shadow that she didn't even ask for in the first place!" I paused before really laying into him. "You come in, you force your way into her life, she has no say in it. Then you follow her around like a child day in and day out, all up in her business. And yeah, here's a shocker: _she doesn't trust easy_. But she trusted you. God knows why. And what do you do? You take advantage." Castle looked like he wanted to say something then, but I wouldn't let him. "Sure most people know what happened, stories get around. But do you know how many people she's personally told about her mother since she joined the force? Do you have any idea? I think it's about five. Her partner back when she was just startin', the Captain, me, Esposito and Will. And guess who was number six? That's right Castle. Do you know how big a step that was for her? Do you know how she feels that you went behind her back about it? You hurt her Castle, and in my book, you deserve everything you get from now on in." I stopped ranting then, noticing that Castle looked good 'n upset.

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I know how badly I screwed up?" he asked. "I was trying… I just thought I could help. And, okay, maybe I didn't think it through. But you don't think I would fix this if I could? That I wouldn't somehow make it better for her? I don't know what to do. I've tried… I just…" He trailed off running his hands through his hair.

I was staring at him, "My god, you do care about her."

"Of course I care about her! What do you think this is? Some sort of game for me? Don't answer that. I just…" I watched as Castle collected his thoughts. "You have no idea how much I wished I didn't have to tell her. How much I wished I could just bury everything back in the cold case files. She told me what would happen if I touched her mother's case, but I'd already seen the file…"

"Which I have no idea how you got anyways," I pointed out.

"I won't reveal my sources," Castle told me quickly.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"Who?"

I sighed, "Don't play cute. You know who."

"It's my fault," he told me.

I snorted. "Oh, I know _that_. But he shoulda known better."

"He was trying to help," Castle told me weakly.

"Yeah, there's a lot of that goin' around," I replied dryly.

"You think anyone wanted this for her?" He asked. "But I figured if there was even a chance it could help her find her mother's killer…" he trailed off.

I paused. If he was right, if he had found something that could give Kate closure then maybe that was the most important thing. It didn't mean all was forgiven, but maybe I'd give he and Esposito a temporary reprieve. Besides, it was clear his feelings for Kate Beckett were far stronger than even I'd ever suspected. I sighed. "Alright Castle, I'm 'a need to know what you found at some point. Maybe I can help you."

"Of course. Anytime Dr. Parish," he told me candidly. "And for what it's worth, I am sorry."

"Uh huh." But I believed him. Still wasn't sure I forgave quite yet. "I'm still mad at you," I told him.

"I figured," he replied. But he seemed a bit more like the old Castle.

I was about to ask him what he planned on doing next when I noticed Beckett getting out of her car and heading towards us. "Here she comes now," I said, gesturing to Beckett.

"What happened?" she demanded. "Are you guys okay?" And with that she went into full-out cop-mode and any further conversation was put on hold.

After that we got distracted by the case. But the next day Castle dropped by the morgue with a file. "Dr. Murray's notes," he told me. "Here's his card. Feel free to call either of us if you have any questions. He's expecting you."

"Thanks," I told him. He turned to leave, but I called after him, "Hey Castle?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning back around.

I met his eyes. "You never know, she may come around."

"Yeah," he said with a half laugh. "I haven't given up yet."

I nodded as he left, "Good."

Because whatever he'd done (and yeah, he'd screwed up big time), Richard Castle was good for Kate Beckett. And his intentions hadn't been malicious. I mean, I wasn't about to get involved; it was her call. But I was kinda hoping she'd come around.

Of course she did come around. He apologized to her and she forgave him. Because Kate Beckett liked him better than she'd ever admit. What was becoming clear though, was that Richard Castle liked her much more than I'd ever expected. Liked her more than he'd ever expected I imagine. I'm not even sure if he realized how important she'd clearly become. Within a week the brief glimpses I'd seen of serious Castle were replaced by happy-go-lucky irresponsible Castle again. But I wasn't fooled. It turned out writer-boy wasn't quite as lacking in substance as I'd suspected.

It wasn't long before things were back to normal, or as normal as things ever were around here. Beckett never said much to me about it. Just told me that she'd decided to let Castle work with her again.

Within a few weeks he was up to his usual tricks. He teased her, while also checking out or flirting with pretty much every female he came across (including yours truly) in a pretty dress. I can't say I minded, after all, it's always a little flattering. And even if I had seen his serious side, he still acted about twelve when faced with an attractive woman. Plus watching Beckett roll her eyes is always fun.

Then one of their cases had them tryin' to win some bet against Esposito and Ryan. Childish, I know, but I shouldn't talk. After all, I may have been guilty of puttin' some money down on my girl and her shadow myself. What? Why do you think I was askin' Perlmutter about the forensic details of Ryan and Esposito's murder to begin with? I'm not one to pass up a good bet and from what I'd been seein' their partnership was getting' back on track.

In fact, pretty much everything was getting' back to normal. They got a crazy case with a con man who may or may not have been dead. The CIA may have even been involved somehow. I'm missin' some of the details. Anyways, Castle was clearly having the time of his life. And girlfriend may have_ looked _frustrated, but she was havin' fun too. Castle loved getting her caught up in his stories tryin' to solve the case. Of course, most of the time now, instead of resisting, she was bouncing ideas alongside him as they figured out the most logical conclusion.

They were working together smoothly. Well, for the most part. They still tried to annoy the heck out of each other at pretty much every opportunity.

But of course Castle loved it when she teased him. And that was never more evident as on Halloween. Oh sure, they were jokin' around about vampires and werewolves, but watching him try to convince her to come to his Halloween party really spelled out how much he liked her. I have to give it to Beckett, showing up late was a stroke of genius on her part. The man was asking pretty much anyone who might know in a manner I'm sure he thought was subtle if they knew if (or when) she was comin'. Took him long enough to get around to me. I decided to cut him off at the pass when he wandered over.

"I haven't heard from her," I told him.

"Who?" he asked in a horrible attempt at pretending not to know what I was talking about.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at him. He just grinned. "Beckett," I told him. "I asked if she wanted a ride, but she declined. I don't know what she's doin'."

Castle tried to play it off, "Well I guess it's just her loss then. Because I'm sure the rest of us are going to have a fabulous time."

"I'll drink to that," I said, raising my glass.

We toasted and shortly thereafter his attention was called away by another one of his guests. But I saw him when Kate finally did walk in the door. He took her little prank with good grace. Then he didn't leave her side for the next fifteen minutes, making sure she had a drink and introducing her to people. Even after they finally went their separate ways he kept checking in with her, making sure she was having a good time. He needn't have worried. Beckett seemed perfectly content to mingle. She and Castle's mother looked as thick as thieves in the corner for a while. I noticed Castle looked mildly concerned at that development. I decided to pry. "Worried?" I asked him, gesturing toward Kate, who was laughing over something his Mrs. Rogers (or Martha as the woman was insisting everyone call her) was saying.

He turned to look at me, distracted. "Well, mother seems to take particular pleasure out of embarrassing me as much as possible so I can only imagine what stories she's regaling Beckett with now."

"Or what Beckett's telling her back," I pointed out. After all, Martha wasn't the only one who delighted in making Castle slightly uncomfortable.

"Exactly," Castle muttered, looking a little nervous.

"I guess that's what happens when you invite your inspiration over for a family gathering," I teased.

"I guess…"

"And really, what's the worst that could happen?" I asked with a grin.

"Yeah," Castle paused. It was clear he didn't find the thought reassuring. "You know, I think I'd better head over and see if either of them want anything to drink."

"Good luck!" I called after him with a chuckle.

"I'll need it," I heard him mutter under his breath.

I shook my head as he left. When I glanced over a few minutes later Castle was well in conversation with both Beckett and Martha. It seemed Beckett had Mom's approval, and Castle was just fine with that. They all just fit. Then I remembered Esposito had been invited to a team poker game at the Castle residence. I wondered if he could give me any more details about Mrs. R's feelings about Beckett. I went in search of him, deciding that while he gave me the details he could also dance with me. It was a party after all.

They were clearly comfortable with each other at the party, but it wasn't long before things got complicated again.

Like I said, Castle'd given me the file detailing what had happened to Beckett's mom, so when a body rolled into my morgue with the exact same injuries I _noticed_. _Of course_ Kate had pulled the case herself. It couldn't 'a been any other detective in New York. And I figured I had to tell her, but I thought I'd wait until I was absolutely sure. I could tell Castle suspected something was up, but I didn't want to bring upt he possibility, even with him. Something this important I needed to be as sure as possible. I called the number Castle had given me and asked Dr. Murray to double check what I was already pretty certain about. No way was I going to Beckett unless it was certain. But it was. Whoever had killed Beckett's mother had also killed Coonan.

So asked Dr. Murray to come with me to tell her. Castle knew what was up the second we walked into the precinct. We told her together. And she broke a little bit. Then she freaked. Yelled at me in the middle of the precinct. Which I expected. And I'm not so petty that I'd resent her for it. What was really surprising was that she left the precinct minutes later after talking to Captain Montgomery. I never thought I'd see the day that Kate Beckett walked away from an open case, but I guess we all have our breaking point.

No one went after her. Concerned as we all were, we all knew better. I musta looked pretty shaken up, Because a few seconds after she left I felt someone touch my wrist. I turned to look at Castle.

"It'll be okay," he told me softly, even though he looked as concerned as the rest of us. "She'll be back."

I was surprised at the serious look on his face. "And how do you know that?" I asked.

He shrugged. "She's Beckett. You know how she is. You really thinks she's gonna walk away from a case? I'm sure she just needs time."

I'm not sure who the man was reassuring, me or himself. Probably a little bit of both. Still, it didn't really make me feel better. I sighed. "I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Besides, it makes a terrible story otherwise," he pointed out with a half a smile.

"Castle this isn't one of your books," I replied.

"I know."

We both lapsed into silence until I broke the lull in the conversation, "This feels like my fault."

"It absolutely is not your fault," he told me firmly. And I was again confronted with mature Castle in the face of a truly serious situation. I guessed this was what Kate was talking about when she went on about how good he was with his daughter.

"I know _that_." I told him. Hadn't made it any easier to deliver the news. "I was the one who brought Murray in to tell her. I was the one who noticed the connection."

"Yes," Castle agreed. "But technically that was _my_ fault, remember? Who poked their nose in where it wasn't wanted in the first place? If anyone in this room is to blame, I think we can all agree that it's gotta be me. Hell, Beckett'd agree it was my fault even if we didn't tell her what we were talking about."

I shot him a half a grin then. "Well that's true," I agreed. "Fine Castle, it's your fault."

"As long as that's settled."

"You really think she'll come back?" I asked him.

"I do," he said calmly. "Eventually." He shrugged, "She's Beckett."

"Yeah." I agreed, hoping he was right. "Well, I better get back to the morgue. You'll let me know if anything comes up?"

"Of course. If she hasn't let you know already."

I nodded. "And Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," I told him sincerely. No wonder Beckett'd warmed to him. He could be downright sweet at times.

"Anytime Dr. Parish," he replied easily. "Trust me, she'll be fine. How could she not be? She has us."

"Yeah, she has us," I agreed.

And as I walked away I realized, Kate Beckett really did have Richard Castle. They'd hit some rough patches, but he was absolutely committed to her now. Something that only became clearer as the case went on. And I'm not just talking about him dropping $100 000 like it was pocket change (though I suppose to him it probably was) just so she could get a chance to catch her mother's killer. No, I'm talking more about their little dinner for two at the station.

Richard Castle was gonna be there for her. She may have started out as _his_ character, but somewhere along the way he'd come to belong to her as well. I just wondered if he was mature enough to realize he was in this for the long haul.

xxxxx

TBC

Next up: Esposito on his boss


	8. Esposito on Beckett

Hi all. I am very sorry this chapter took so long. I honestly thought I'd get it up faster. I ended up with a horrible case of writer's block, to the extent that I almost nixed this chapter and went on to the next one. But I kinda wanted to have this chapter, so I didn't. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, but it won't be until the weekend at the earliest (and I make no promises). Also, I've decided that all of the chapters aren't going any further than "The Third Man." That's the last episode to air when I started this thing and I'm sticking with it.

This one's dedicated to Nathan fan, who inadvertently made me realize that I hadn't actually included much discussion of the Heat Wave release in any of the chapters. Something I decided needed to be remedied. Oh, and thanks to all my other reviewers.

Still own nothing.

xxxxx

Esposito on Beckett

xxxxx

There are lots of reasons to become a cop. For some it's almost a family tradition. Others are just guys with massive authority issues. They're on a power trip and want to carry a gun. They're also usually the types that eventually abuse the power when they get it. To some it's a calling. Or a way to solve the mysteries, if you're a person who likes the puzzles. Then there's the last group, and the group that I like to hope contains the most of the force, the people working to keep the streets of the New York City safe. I hope I'm in that category myself. But if there's someone who definitely fits the profile, it's Beckett.

Katherine Beckett joined the police force for one reason, and one reason only: Justice.

Now there's a woman who just wants to put scumbags behind bars.

And she's good at it.

We've been workin' together for years now and let me tell ya, you'd be hard pressed to find a better cop. She's strong, brave, brash and smart. Once she gets a case she doesn't let up until the sleazebag responsible's behind bars. She works long hours, and she works hard. She drives herself and everyone around her. And yeah, while that particular quality turns out to be a pain in the ass when she's callin' me in at some ungodly hour of the morning, she's also taught me a lot. And I _know_ that if we're out in the field that woman's got my back. You can bet I've got hers. Beckett's one hell of a detective. Anyone who says different, well, they can meet me out in the alley behind the station to settle that particular debate if you know what I mean.

I don't even hesitate anymore to put my life in her hands. After all, I never have to worry that Beckett'll run into a situation unprepared or order any member of her team into one either.

She's always thought out all the angles and figured out the best way to go about things. It's just how she is. Anything that she can control, she will. Anything she can't control, well, she figures out a way to live without it. Sometimes I think she makes things happen the way she wants by her will alone. Well, that and the tone of her voice. When she gives you an order, you know she means it. People tend to just do what she tells them to.

And while her control-freak tendencies aren't the best for her personal life, based on what Lanie tells me sometimes anyways, they are pretty great for her job.

Beckett can be pretty intimidating. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was intimidated the first time I met her. A' course my first glimpse of Beckett was from across a busy station house watchin' her haul a particularly difficult suspect into interrogation. Guy didn't want to go quietly and he didn't take too kindly to a woman being the one to put him away. He tried to take more'n a few liberties. Idiot even tried to cop a feel.

She slammed him into a wall and snarled something in his ear that made all the colour drain from his face.

In hindsight it was pretty awesome. At the time I was scared shitless when I realized that woman was gonna be my new boss.

But I waited as patiently as I could to meet my new teammate. Beckett sailed out of interrogation with a smirk on her face 'bout ten minutes later, asking a nearby officer to escort the guy down to holding. Then she turned to me and it was like she was a whole different woman.

"Hi, you must be Esposito," she said with a friendly smile.

"Yeah, that's me," I told her.

"Kate Beckett," she replied. "Sorry about the wait. A bit of pressing business."

"Yeah, I saw that," I admitted. "You get him then?" I asked gesturing towards the interrogation room where the perp was walking sullenly out, trying to stay as far away from Beckett as as possible.

"Oh yeah," she confirmed. "He rolled on his partners the second I got him in there. You know the type, all bluff no substance. He's a coward." Then she shook herself, "You get the tour yet?"

"Not really," I admitted. "They showed me in here and that's about it. Told me you'd be out in a few minutes."

She laughed, "Well they were right. Come on Esposito, why don't we grab a coffee and I'll show you around."

"Sounds good," I agreed.

"Over here," Beckett told me, gesturing towards the break room.

I remember being relieved that she wasn't quite as scary as she'd looked. Then she turned quickly back towards the bullpen, "Reynolds! You got those phone records I asked for yet?"

A man turned guitlly, "They're on their way Beckett, I just…"

"Just let me know when they get here," she said. "Has Lanie called about the unidentified substance on the murder weapon?"

"No. Not yet, I can call her if you…" Reynolds started to reply.

But Beckett interrupted him briskly, "No, I'll drop by while I give the new guy the tour."

"Okay," Reynolds agreed quickly as he tried to get out of her line of sight. I wondered if maybe my first opinion had been correct. She sure could order people around. There was a small chance I was every so slightly screwed.

xxxxx

'Course, as it often is the truth was somewhere in between. While Beckett can be scary as hell if she's mad, most of the time she's pretty great. She just likes to do things her way. And the sooner you figure out how to work with or around that, the better. She has a system. And while it's definitely a lot of work, it gets results, so I can't complain.

Then came Castle.

Long as I live I'll never forget the day he showed up. I thought I was gonna die laughing more than once. I was watching that first interrogation and let me tell ya', it's not often I see Kate Beckett at a loss for words. Or that close to shooting someone. She was just tryin' to figure out whether or not he was involved and he couldn't seem to stop flirting to save his life. I'll give him this though, he was persistent. Boy was he persistent.

I knew from the beginning it was gonna be some case. But I had no idea just how strange it was really gonna be.

I shoulda known when she hauled that box of books into the precinct for Ryan and I to read. Ryan didn't seem to have a problem with it, but I was _not_ thrilled with having to read a bunch a' books about dead bodies. So she was a fan, didn't mean all the rest of us were. Although I can't say I minded the chance to mock her. After all, I'm pretty sure she's a bigger fan than she was admitting out loud. Ryan'd probably know. I know he's read more of Castle's books than I have and I know he's gotten most of them from her. Maybe I should ask him sometime…

But that's not the point. The point is the reason she didn't understand my objection to her plan. She wanted to know why I wasn't curious about how the killers we saw almost every damn day could do the sorts of things they did to other people. Then it all started to fall into place.

Beckett didn't read crime novels for the puzzles or the sex scenes. Okay, they may have had something to do with it on some level. But she was really reading them to figure out _how _or _why_. Sure we sometimes knew how a guy killed someone else. From a 9mm in the chest, to an axe in the back, to everything in between, we've seen it. And sometimes we even knew why, cheating husband, inheritance, even something a silly as winning a local bake-off, you name it, we've probably seen something similar. No, she was reading to figure out how another human being managed to do that to another human being. How you let yourself think it was okay. She was trying to understand the killers.

Because that might help her make sense of what happened to her.

Everyone knew Beckett's history. And everyone knew she was still pretty messed up about her Mom's death. But pretty much everyone also knew not to talk about it. Still, every so often she'd say something and you'd realize, realize why she was who she was and why it made her such a good cop.

She looked at all of the angles, eliminating all possibilities, one by one.

And while the appearance of her favourite writer was certainly a bit of a deviation from the system, or at least, a way of livening it up a bit, it wasn't that big a deal to her, not at first anyways.

Then he walked into the precinct the next day. I saw him in the Captain's office when Beckett had stepped out and I knew something was up. I also knew I was probably gonna be in for quite a show. Beckett of course wanted to know what the hell he was doin' there when she did see him.

I couldn't resist teasing, "Maybe he likes you," I suggested. Her facial expression told me pretty clearly what she thought of that possibility. I don't think it was _that_ ridiculous. After all the man had been pretty interested in her eyes the evening before. And he'd laid it on pretty thick. She hadn't given him an inch, but if she had, well… let's just say Rick Castle would have been all for a more private interrogation than the precinct had to offer, if you know what I mean.

Beckett seemed pretty irritated when she found out he'd be around for the whole case. He had his advantages though. The man could call the mayor to speed up the process. I couldn't help bein' a bit impressed and wishing for his connections.

Beckett, on the other hand, was just mad. Castle wouldn't do a thing she told him and I could tell she was about to snap.

When I seemed impressed with his methods she offered to let me have him.

But even though I was sure Castle would have made the more mundane parts of my job easier, there was something else to consider, as I explained, with a grin. "A control freak like you with somethin' that you can't control? No no, that's gonna be more fun than shark week." And it was. I knew it was gonna be an entire case of Beckett trying not to kill him or, if he was lucky, counting down from 100 in her head to stop from snapping.

Luckily for me, Beckett has a sense of humour because she grinned back.

Course back then I had no idea how much fun the 12ths very own dynamic duo were gonna be.

I watched as he threw himself underfoot and basically forced her to notice him. The case was almost over when she finally gave in and started workin' with him. She'd finally recognized his contribution, so his natural first step? As he once again crossed the boundaries of the carefully designed box she put case-related things in her irritation re-surfaced. Yeah it was a fun case.

I know Beckett was relieved when it was over.

Ryan and I watched her walk away from Castle in that alleyway, "Tisdale all set?" she asked.

"Yup, read him his rights and everything. He's coolin' his heels in the back of the cruiser," Ryan told her easily.

"Girl, he's still starin' at you," I told her.

"Who, Tisdale?" she asked, looking at the cop car where the perp was sitting.

"Nah, not him," I replied. "Castle. Whatever you did, damn. Dude looks like he just saw his first…"

"Don't finish that sentence," Beckett warned.

"Fine," I agreed. "So, what'd you do?"

Beckett smirked, "Let's just say that Richard Castle doesn't know everything. Hell, he doesn't even know as much as he thinks he does."

I smirked back nodding, "Nice."

"Come on let's get out of here," she told me. "We've got stuff to do."

"Paperwork to fill out," Ryan said with a sigh as he walked up.

"Yeah well, at least you don't have to explain to Montgomery why one of New York City's premiere authors got held at gunpoint in an alley," Beckett told him.

"Safety was on," I pointed out. Ryan grinned..

"Still." Beckett said. "At least it's over."

I was almost sad about that. Watching her try and keep the writer in line had been fun. Actually pretty much the entire case had been fun.

And apparently Castle thought so too, because he decided to stick around.

xxxxx

He stuck around alright. At times he seemed almost giddy about murder cases; he was more and more fascinated the stranger the story was. But he was also fascinated by the way Beckett dealt with the darker aspects of her job. The man loved to watch her work. He loved it when she was serious and comforting the victims, he was enthralled when she empathized with a young female killer and talked her down from stabbing herself in a laundry room, he was impressed by her ability to lie convincingly to a witness to build a rapport and he really just wanted to figure her out. When the guy wasn't observing her he was trying to get under skin.

And what was Beckett doing during all of this time?

Not putting up with it quietly. Sure, she allowed him to follow her around with reasonably good grace since it was basically a direct request from the _mayor_. But it didn't mean she took it easy on him. Any chance she got she was in his face, refusing to let him in an inch. Sure, some of the time she slipped up and actually went along with his ideas, weaving her own insights into his stories until between them they'd figured out the case, but for the most part Beckett was doing her dammnest to stay in control of the relationship.

This one case we had, rich New York citizens were being robbed and then murdered, likely at charity events. Kate couldn't get a donor list, so Castle figured the best thing would be to just show up themselves. So what does he do? He gets a pair of tickets and asks Beckett to go with him. Man that was funny.

Beckett looked like she was about to shut him down when he suggested a night on the town in the middle of the case. She was certainly gearing up to cut him off at the pass. But Castle just railroaded right over her objections explaining why his plan was really their best option. Then, not giving her a chance to refuse he set a time and walked, but not before adding that the event was black tie and that he hoped that wasn't a problem.

The expression on Beckett's face was not a common one. Complete and utter bewilderment, wondering how she'd been roped into it. And if the muttering I heard her doing under her breath was anything to go by (something about stupid annoying writers who just expected her to pick up and head out to a black tie dinner at a moment's notice should be shot), even if she'd put on a good front, the stubborn Detective wasn't quite as prepared as she wanted everyone to believe. The fact that I then overheard a half ranting, half frantic phone call to Lanie and a request to help her get ready just confirmed my suspicions.

Richard Castle had thrown Kate Beckett through a bit of an unexpected loop and she didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

Of course when she showed up at the event she looked every inch like the confident woman she was. And she looked like she belonged there, rubbin' elbows with all the high-society types. Though she'd probably deny it if we asked. Not sure where she got the dress from, hell it could have been from Castle himself after all, but she looked smokin' hot. Not like Beckett really, but somehow very much like Beckett at the same time. It was strange.

I'll tell ya one thing, even the dress didn't stop her from arresting a suspect. It's almost too bad that he didn't run. A tackle in that thing woulda been worth the price of admission.

As it was, Beckett wouldn't even interrogate the guy in the damn dress. Guess she figured it'd take away from the image of tough Detective-Lady she was trying to project.

Still, it's a shame. A Beckett interrogation it that woulda been something. Something amazing.

xxxxx

Obviously the two of them kept getting closer. And that was never so evident as the kidnapping case.

Beckett's handsome ex shows up, and yeah, Castle got jealous, but he also showed surprising maturity and restraint. Especially since Beckett herself was getting more and more stressed out about the missing little girl. The man even left the station when she asked him to without a fuss, but not before telling her to call if she needed anything. And I saw her face when he offered, almost looked like she was considering taking him up on it. I'd known her for almost four years, and I knew how rare it was for her to lean on or confide in anyone.

She didn't end up calling him, but she did go along with Castle's idea of making the ransom drop himself. I know it may not sound like much, but like I said, Kate Beckett pays attention to each and every last detail of anything associated with her job. Bouncing theories off the man was one thing; letting him help out with the execution was something else entirely.

Sorrenson sure as hell wasn't pleased. Of course I'm pretty sure Will was mad for an entirely different reason. I wondered if maybe we'd start seeing a bit more of him around the station again. That'd certainly screw up the betting pool about when Beckett would finally hook up with the other man in her life.

But yet again Will and Kate wasn't to be. First he got shot after a meet she arranged, then he was on medical leave, then he transferred out again. Which woulda been good for Castle, except that Beckett was equally pissed off at him. She'd found out that he'd looked at her mother's file. I still don't think she knows exactly how he got it (_Thank god)_, but she knows he looked into it. And she shut down on him.

I'd watched her loosen up around him just a little and knew that it really hurt her when he effectively violated the trust she'd slowly been giving him. Afterwards it was like she became even more wary of everyone and everything. Everything on her desk had its proper place. All paperwork had to be filled out on time and according to her specifications. She approached every case the same way, as efficiently as possible.

Oh, she was still Beckett, but she was more like when I'd first met her. Just ever so slightly closed off. Like she was afraid if she let someone see anything they'd stomp on her for it.

Between you and me I felt a little guilty about the whole thing. Not guilty enough to tell her about my involvement or anything, but still guilty.

Then it turns out that I didn't need to. Castle was back. And things went back to normal. He teased, she resisted. He tried to goad her into acting out, she tried to keep him in line.

Which isn't to say that Beckett didn't have a sense of humour. Girl could be wicked when she wanted to be. One of his first cases back she actually bet on the outcome of a case. In a betting pool organized by Richard Castle himself. I totally thought we were all dead when she figured out what was going on. After all, if there's one thing Beckett insists on, it's that the victims and their families are treated with respect at all times. Not that the rest of us meant any disrespect of course, far from it. But the job can be tough; we were just tryin' to have a little fun. Besides, a little friendly competition might mean the cases were solved more quickly. And that means everybody wins.

I guess I just didn't take how competitive Beckett could be into account. She'd totally deny it of course, but she was having fun partnering with Castle trying to solve their case first. And she was a worthy competitor. Even if Ryan and I totally won the bet, regardless of what either of them has to say about it. They'll deny it. But we all know what happened.

Still, we decided not to argue the point. Technically both cases were solved at pretty much the same time anyways. Besides, with Castle around there was certain to be other bets.

The writer made things a bit less monotonous for everyone. Especially Beckett. Which made sense. She spent the most time with him. And she seemed to find messing with him particularly fun. I remember this one case, a con man from the upper west side got shot in a tent while he was faking a trip to Antartica. Beckett spent the whole case telling everyone she hated con movies, just to screw with Castle.

Course it worked, just like it always did. Implying she had a date so he spent the evening trying to figure out who it was, trying to convince him she hadn't read his book, downplaying just how big a fan she really was. Nothing Beckett seemed to enjoy so much as pushing his buttons, trying to make sure she was in control. Only thing was, he pushed hers right back. And had more success than anyone else I'd ever seen.

Then he got the offer for the other book deal. Looked like the 12th was actually going to lose a consultant there for a while. And it made Beckett defensive and edgy. Oh she played it off like she didn't care, but I put it all together. Okay, maybe Lanie helped a little. Alright, so Lanie was technically the one who told me about the other book deal, I was the one who'd noticed Beckett seemed to be acting strangely. She and Castle seemed to be genuinely irritated with each other, which despite appearances, was actually pretty rare.

The Heat Wave launch party sure was interesting.

"Think he'll actually take the other deal?" I asked Lanie as we watched Castle walk over to Beckett while she was reading the dedication.

Lanie shrugged, "Hard to say. On the one hand James Bond is apparently the reason he became a writer, on the other…"

"He's pretty interested in Nikki Heat," I finished with a grin.

"Not that she's giving him any encouragement," Lanie remarked dryly.

I laughed softly, "If anything it's the other way around."

"Well, wouldn't want Castle to think she likes him," Lanie told me with an eye-roll.

"Like Ryan tells people, she's not exactly a sharer," I replied.

"Plus she's terrified he'll hold it over her for the rest of her life," Lanie added.

"Maybe that dress'll help knock some sense into him," I said optimistically, gesturing to Beckett's incredibly attractive ensemble.

"Hmm," was Lanie's only reply.

We watched the non-couple by the book display for a few seconds. Thinks were looked good for about half a minute, but the conversation ended with both of them stalking off in opposite directions.

"Or not," I said. "Things were looking good for a little while there, but Castle didn't even notice."

"Well, you men can be pretty oblivious sometimes," Lanie told me.

"Hey! I resent that. I'm a trained Detective you know. I'm known for my powers of observation."

Lanie grinned, "Well then Mr. Detective. What do you see right now."

I paused, "I see a beautiful woman that needs another drink," I told her as I took her empty glass.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet," Lanie laughed.

I just ordered another two martinis and hoped Castle'd figure it out.

Unfortunately it didn't look like there was much hope for Castle and Beckett's partnership as the case went on. Beckett got downright snappy with the author. Didn't take a genius to figure out why. She always got irritated at anything out of her control. It was partly why she was so pissed off with Castle all the time. But now here was something that was threatening to shake her life up again, so soon after it'd just started to sort itself out, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Well, she could. She could tell Castle she wanted him to stay. But we all know that had a snowball's chance in hell of happening. Instead her instinctive reaction was to push him away before he could reject her. And then her pride wouldn't let her go back on it when she realized it wasn't actually what she wanted.

It was a shame too, because despite a rocky couple of days, they solved the case together. I was gonna miss the writer myself.

Then fate intervened in the form of a particularly lucrative three-book deal for Nikki Heat. Beckett pretended to be irritated about it, but she didn't put on a particularly convincing show. I'm not even sure Castle bought it.

But then, he was so obviously relieved himself it was a moot point anyways.

So things got back to normal again. He teased, she poked back. We solved cases. They flirted.

Then Castle's ex-girlfriend showed up. And this time it was Beckett's turn to get jealous. Oh she hid it pretty well, but as I said, I was a trained investigator who had Lanie on his side. Watching Beckett try and control her own jealousy while simultaneously trying to make sure the murder investigation wasn't compromised was interesting.

But it wasn't until her mother's killer resurfaced that it became a hell of a lot clearer what was goin' on.

I expected her to be a wreck. When she stormed out of the station house we all pretty much figured that was it. She was done with the case, couldn't deal. But then it was Castle she called and asked for help, Castle who gave her $100 000 to catch her mother's killer, Castle she kept turning to for emotional support, Castle who's life she saved and Castle who comforted her afterwards. Oh sure, she appreciated everything the rest of us did. And she trusted us enough to help her. But it was the writer who was leading the charge.

I never expected to see Beckett willingly let anyone help her, not where her mother was concerned. Our regular cases were one thing, but this was a big deal.

It looked like things were maybe movin' forward between them. Like one of them might finally get a clue.

Then Castle was named New York's 9th most eligible bachelor.

But the paper also implied he might not remain a bachelor for long.

Ryan and I had fun screwin' with him about that. He was so desperate for Beckett not to find out. It was almost funny when a witness blew his cover. Beckett went ballistic. Unsurprisingly. I see her point. It's still tough for a female cop in this town without rumours that she was sleeping with her consultant. I'm happy to say that I've never held their gender against any of my female colleagues, but not everyone's as enlightened as I am.

Castle's brilliant plan to stop the gossip involved a date. Beckett decided to get one of her own from Lanie, apparently out of the blue. Course the friendly neighbourhood coroner was only too happy to oblige. I'd met the guy once or twice. Seemed like a pretty good guy. Not sure exactly what he and Beckett'd have in common. But he was at least as dedicated to his job as she was to hers, so that was something. I mean, the guy ran into a burning building to save some puppies. Gets the women every time. Also clearly annoyed the hell out of Castle.

Unfortunately by the time the date rolled around we hadn't solved the case yet, so Beckett still had her head completely wrapped up in that. I thought she was making progress on some of her control issues when she agreed to let Ryan and I hold down the fort for a few hours while she went on her date. How very wrong I was. Couple hours later we're getting a joint phone call from Castle and Beckett about some insane-sounding theory involving smuggling and snakes and diamonds. Thing is, it was all we had and was crazy as it sounded, made way more sense than anything else we'd come up with. So of course not twenty minutes later we're all back at a crime scene.

Their crazy joint theory ended up being the one that solved the case of course. No idea what happened to either of their dates and I didn't ask. The sight of the pair of 'em walking out of the station arm in arm made it pretty clear that they weren't going to be meeting up with either Bachelorette number 3 or the protector of young canines later in the evening. I rather suspect that newspaper reporter interviewing Castle was more right than she realized when she accused him of being in a relationship with his muse. He just wasn't quite there yet. Not that she was either.

But I was becoming more and more certain that's where they were heading. They balanced each other out. She reigned in his crazy and he let her have a little fun.

It's strange; when he first came I thought Beckett having to deal with someone she couldn't control would be good for a laugh but not much else. I guess I never figured Castle'd bring something else she couldn't control, her growing affection for him.

xxxxx

TBC (next one is Montgomery on Beckett)


	9. Captain Montgomery on Beckett

A/N: Sorry about the delay. It's becoming harder and harder to write these things so they don't just sound really repetitive. Which is part of the delay (the other part is I am both lazy and prone to procrastination). There's one more of the typical chapters left (Martha on her son) and then an epilogue. No idea when those'll be up. My goal is not to take another month for the next chapter (Sorry again about that). It could have been up weeks earlier, but it would have been about a tenth its current length, so I figure this would have been preferred. And thank you to all my reviewers. Especially MK who occasionally prods me to get writing again. This chapter's for you.

Still own nothing. Alas.

xxxxx

Montgomery on Beckett

xxxxx

As a supervisor it's important not to play favourites.

After all, you don't want your judgement clouded and you don't want to be accused of bias or favouritism when it comes time for promotions or recommendations. The NYPD gets enough bad press as it is and showing blatant favouritism is a quick way to lose a command. So I don't play favourites with my detectives or my officers. I treat everyone fairly and with respect, but no one gets a free pass when they screw up and no one gets an easier ride.

But just because I treat everyone equally doesn't mean I like 'em all the same. That's not possible. It's inevitable in a long career that there are certain people you just click with more than others, that stand out.

And she's one of them. You know who I mean. Detective Kate Beckett. She walked into the 12th one day, showed up at my office door completely green, fresh off the beat. I'd been expecting the new recruit, but she didn't exactly look like I was expecting. For one she was beautiful. Not that I took advantage, or even really ever mentioned it (I am a happily married man after all). But it's hard not to notice. For another, even though it was obvious the woman was nervous as hell, she also had more attitude about her than most of the detectives that flowed through the 12th.

I had a feeling about this one.

The hints of nerves resurfaced when she introduced herself, but she was fighting them. And hints of the attitude I'd suspected existed kept popping up in her conversation. Overall I was pleased with our meeting. And I liked her. Maybe it was because of her exemplary record, or her obvious intelligence, or her eloquence. Or maybe it was because she knew the difference between a fastball and a slider. I don't know.

But I was glad Kate Beckett was a part of my team.

xxxxx

Not that there weren't _any _rocky patches in the early days. Sure the other detectives got along with her and respected her. I wasn't breakin' up fights or anything. But it took her a little while to fit in.

For all her surface friendliness and ability to hold an intelligent conversation, Kate Beckett kept herself pretty closed off. I knew why, and I didn't blame her. Stories about her past had leaked out somehow, like they always do. And while I understood the reasons for her reticence, I always thought it was a bit of a shame that it meant more people didn't get to know her better. Sure, she was confident on the job, but she wasn't exactly open. Except with the victims of course. With them she was almost a different woman. It was somethin' to see. And it was one of the things that showed she was special.

Beckett'd only been at the station a few months when I decided to have a few of the detectives over to watch the ball game. While Beckett'd been friendly she hadn't been anywhere near the centre of the action all night. I remember bein' a bit concerned about how she'd do in the long run.

My wife set me straight on that one.

I'd noticed her and Beckett had gravitated towards each other a bit during the game. Only natural, for better or for worse the NYPD was still pretty male-dominated, though that was starting to change. Slowly.

Still, I figured if anybody could get Beckett to relax a bit, it was Jen. I wondered what she thought of her.

I waited until everyone else had left until broaching the subject, "So, what'd you think of Beckett?" I asked her as I moved some of the empty chip bowls to the kitchen.

"Hmm?" My wife asked distractedly. "Oh, Kate. She's great Roy. I like her. You watch that one, she'll go far."

"You seem pretty sure about that after only meeting her once," I pointed out with a smile.

"I'm a smart woman hon. We learn to recognize each other early on," Jen replied with a shrug.

"Ah." I said, trying not to sound too sceptical.

Of course, Jen knew me too well and when she turned towards me, hands on her hips I knew I was in for it. "You disagree about Beckett? Don't think she can hack it? Worried she's not tough enough?" I winced as my wife's voice got louder with ever question and hurried to defend myself.

"No, of course not. She's great on the job. Really great actually," I insisted. "Sometimes I just wonder though..."

"About?" my wife asked, her expression not softening even the littlest bit.

"Well, she's a bit reserved some of the time," I pointed out. "Everybody likes her fine, but sometimes I worry about how she'll do in the long run."

But my wife dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand, "I don't know if you've noticed Roy, but you're not exactly Mr. Chatty either. She's just settling in. And she's young, female, and attractive, all of which mean it's probably not that easy. She's just worried about making a mistake is all. And I don't think she's quite as confident as she projects. Give her time. I think she's doing better than either of you think."

"If you say so," I told her.

"I do," Jen insisted.

I grinned then. "Well, I hope you're right. Because I like her. She's got something."

"I'm always right. Haven't you learned that by now?" my wife asked me with a smile. "Now get started on those dishes. They aren't going to wash themselves."

I laughed and obligingly turned on the water to wash out the bowls, deciding to keep any other concerns to myself. I'd learned long ago not to argue with a strong, smart woman if I could help it. It rarely ended well for me. Somehow or other I inevitably lost the argument.

A few days later as I watched Beckett break a drug dealer in interrogation I realized that was something the criminal element of our fine city would have to learn. I couldn't wait to watch it happen.

xxxxx

Course, as always, my wife was right. Beckett eventually settled into our little family at the 12th. And pretty much everyone respected, if not liked her. Soon she was in charge of her own team. And I know for a fact that both of her partners would stand by her through thick and thin.

They were good cops the lot of them. And they were slowly developing their own little routine.

Of course their little routine was about to get shaken up by a new player.

One Richard Castle, famous mystery author turned out to have a slight connection to one of Beckett's cases. I wasn't sure what to think of him when we first met, but when he offered to help out on that first case I figured what the hell. Why not? I trusted Beckett to keep him under control; he would actually provide some relevant insight, what was the worst that could happen?

I did feel a little bad about not even running it by her first, but I already knew what she was gonna say. She could suck it up for one case, and this way I managed to get some points with the mayor. Besides Beckett was tough.

Course, as it turned out, it wasn't just one case. Richard Castle wanted to stick around. Seems he was absolutely fascinated by the good Detective.

The fact that the woman whose reserve I'd originally been worried would prevent her from fitting in had managed to catch the attention of a millionaire playboy writer gave me a little private chuckle. Castle sure was something. I figured though he might drive her up the wall, the experience might be good for her. For one, he was useful, which'd help her case-closed record and her career. For another he might help her loosen up a bit.

Still, after the deal was done, I figured I should check in with her.

I dropped by her desk after Castle had left for the night. "Castle gone home?" I asked.

"Yeah, I sent him off. Told him he didn't need to watch me fill out paperwork," she replied.

"Hey Beckett, I know you were kind of blind-sided by this," I told her. "Are you sure you're okay with having Castle around?"

"I have a choice?" she asked with a half a grin. Then she continued with a shrug. "It's fine sir. I know the deal. Rich writer, friends with the mayor, keeping the bigwigs and the politicians happy. I've got it."

"I know Beckett, but if he's seriously going to be a problem I can get rid of him." She looked surprised at that and I continued. "If he ever does anything that you think endangers your life, or anyone else's he's gone. He'll sign waivers, but they're only gonna cover him. So you think he's a risk to anyone else the deal's off. It was one of the conditions. I just don't want you to feel like you were forced into this."

Beckett nodded. "Thank you sir. But I know how good this could be for the station. And I think I can handle one crazy writer. After all, how bad can he be?"

I raised my eyebrows at that.

"Okay," she admitted with a half shrug. "So he's annoying and immature as anything. I'm trying to be optimistic here. At least it'll be a story to tell the grandkids."

I chuckled at that. "Well that's certainly true." I told her as I got up to leave. "Well I'm off."

"Night sir."

"Night Beckett." I got to the door before turning back, "And Beckett?"

"Yes sir?"

"Thanks," I told her with a smile. She just smiled back. I left shaking my head. Things were sure about to get interesting around here.

xxxxx

Things sure got interesting all right. Over the next couple 'a weeks pretty much everyone at the station got treated to one hell of a show on an almost daily basis. Show up at the station on any given day and you pretty much guaranteed to hear the pair of them bickering with each other.

Part of it was because Beckett was originally pretty resistant to any of Castle's suggestions and his ideas, preferring instead to put him in his place as much as she could. Something which I must admit I wholeheartedly supported, albeit silently. After all, it wouldn't do for the captain of the precinct to be encouraging one of his detectives to mock her consultant as much as possible.

But to his credit, Castle surprised us all. To start, he proved more useful than I ever had any notion of him being. Sure he was likeable and all, but I never figured he'd come in so handy when it came to solving the cases. But if I'm honest that wasn't what endeared him to me the most.

Call me an old softie if you want to (I'll just deny it anyway), but I really liked the affect he had on his would-be-inspiration. His near-constant poking and prodding was forcing her to react. And in spite of herself, Beckett couldn't quite pull off being annoyed with him all the time. She started to open up around him, let him see her a bit more. I don't think anyone really had any idea of how close they'd gotten. Maybe not even them. When word reached me that she'd actually told him about her mother you coulda knocked me over with a feather. But the more I thought about it the more it made sense.

They did spend an awful lot of time together. Beckett was starting to put more faith in his theories, to actually view them as credible and not something to be mocked mercilessly. And she seemed to be having a bit more fun. Which was nice to see.

They got so close that when I showed up at his house to play poker one evening I wasn't even surprised to see her there. Actually, it was more surprising how normal Castle's "I owe the lovely Detective a rematch so I thought I'd invite her over for this game if nobody minds," explanation sounded to my ears.

And so I watched as Beckett became a temporary fifth player at a table which included, besides Castle and yours truly, the mayor and a sitting judge. At least if anyone questioned the wisdom of letting Castle tag after Beckett I could point out that the man was sure helping her make the right connections. Not many New York City cops could say that they'd played poker with the mayor after all.

For a while the conversation was pretty neutral but before long the topic shifted to the case they were working (unsurprising given how completely the pair of them tended to get sucked into the mystery of the week). I watched as one of my detectives traded theories with a mystery writer, the mayor and a judge. I may have tossed in a couple of ideas of my own. Hard to help it. They do manage to get the strangest sounding cases some of the time. It's hard not to get sucked in and try to help 'em figure it out.

Course, we all hit a dead end. That tends to happen when most of the likely suspects for the murder either have solid alibis or are dead. That's when the focus shifted back to our cards. I watched as Beckett called Castle's attention back to the game, challenging him to come up with some chips or admit defeat. And that's when I realized something, she was baiting _him._ Had been for a damn long time too. This wasn't about trying to push him out of her life, prevent him from seeing things. Whether she knew it or not, Beckett wasn't trying to keep him at arm's length anymore.

Somewhere along the way Kate Beckett had become a willing participant in his little games. She was playing with him just as much as he was playing with her, and enjoying the hell out of it. Even as I watched her fold her cards I figured I was missing something. Some scheme, some angle. Who the hell knows what, but the woman looked far too smug for someone who'd just lost a hand.

Before I could try and figure out what exactly was goin' on, Castle interrupted with another twist, this one about the case, suggesting that someone we all thought was dead might be alive.

Kate reacted instantly. "That's insane!" she told him immediately. But then she paused, considering, "On the other hand, it's the only thing that makes any _sense_."

"I know right?" Castle asked excitedly. "And it's cool!"

"I'll call Ryan and Esposito and get them to meet us at the station," she said standing. "Excuse me gentleman."

Castle stood after her, "Tell them I'll bring donuts, ease the pain of coming in at this hour."

She waved a hand at him, "Whatever Castle."

"You say that now, but you'll be singing a different tune when you get your bear claw!" he yelled after her.

"They always like this?" the judge asked me in amusement.

I shrugged, "Either that or she's threatening to shoot him."

"Ah."

"Hey, at least they're not boring," the mayor interjected.

"No, they're certainly not." I agreed with a grin.

"They almost make me miss working as a prosecutor," the judge replied.

"Hell, they make me miss bein' in the field half the time," I agreed. "Especially when I'm going through the monthly budget reports."

The mayor scoffed, "Try looking at the ones from the entire city. We'd better get ready. You know the second she's off the phone she'll be off and he'll want to follow."

"Think Castle'd notice if we stole his chips?" the Judge asked.

"Unfortunately," I replied.

We all just shrugged and grabbed our coats, watching as Beckett continued to bark orders into her phone while trying her hardest to ignore Castle bouncing around after her. Yeah, saying they made things interesting was probably an understatement.

xxxxx

Course, not long after that it turned out that _interesting_ wasn't always _good_.

I was first got worried when Sorrenson showed up, but Castle was surprisingly restrained. Then came the mob case. That one looked like it was gonna be a dead end, but everyone pulled together and we caught ourselves a mafia hit-man (or was it hit-woman?). I got the shock of my life when Beckett admitted that she didn't think she coulda solved the case without Castle. I mean, she'd always been fair, but I'd never expected her to admit that the writer was _useful_.

I'd had some serious reservations when he started out, but it was finally looking like things were coming together. He was getting his research, I was getting on the mayor's good side, and with him around Beckett seemed to really be coming into her own. Her career was certainly on the upswing.

So of course we were probably due for catastrophe. Probably tempted fated with all the positive thinking I was doing.

Only a few hours after solving what had to be one of the biggest cases of her entire career an almost broken-looking Katherine Beckett walked into my office. To say I was surprised would have been an understatement.

"Sir, I need to talk to you for a moment." She said as she walked in.

"It's not Sorrenson is it?" I asked. "They told me he was outta the woods."

Beckett looked briefly surprised before shaking her head. "No," she told me with an attempt at a smile. "Will's fine. Doing well."

"Well then?" I asked.

"I can't work with Castle anymore," she told me bluntly. "I've already told him. I know it puts you in a difficult position sir and that's not my intention, but if you insist on it I'm afraid I'll have to ask for a transfer. Course, it may not be an issue," she added as an afterthought. "I don't think he'll press the point."

I couldn't quite believe it. I thought they'd worked out most of their issues. "Beckett... I mean, of course if he's done something I won't force you, but are you sure? I mean... I... what... I thought..."

"He poked around in my past sir," she told me softly.

And then I understood. She didn't need to say anymore. "I'm sorry," I told her. There wasn't anything else I could say. If Castle'd been stupid enough to go poking his nose around in her mother's case he deserved what he got. Inspiration for a character or not, the woman deserved some privacy. And I knew that the old wounds were still very raw. I cleared my throat, "I'll see that the mayor and the commissioner get the message," I promised her. "You won't have to worry about it."

"Thank you sir," she told me quietly. And then she stood up to leave.

"Hey Beckett?" I called after her. "At least you did a good job today, got a killer of the streets, that's something."

She summoned up a smile to shoot me then. Even if neither of us believed it I appreciated the effort. "Yes sir. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night Beckett," I called after her.

I had half a mind to call Richard Castle myself and give him a piece of my mind. But I didn't. For one, it wasn't my business. And for another, the man probably felt bad enough as it was. Immature he may be, but he wasn't cruel. And any fool could see he liked her. I guess all that was left now was to hope they sorted it out.

And I did hope they sorted it out. Because watching Beckett over the next couple of weeks was almost like a flash from the past. She was more like she'd been two or three years ago, very good at her job, very in control, very competent. But she was far less open. She wasn't having nearly as much fun.

Her partners rallied around her as best they could, but they couldn't bring her out of her funk. Of course the fact that Castle wasn't the only cause didn't help. I knew the reason for the change was one part Castle, one part her mother's death. And the effect of the double whammy on the detective was depressing to see.

Thank the lord for Heat Wave.

When I got the call from Castle's publishers asking if they could shoot some publicity shots in the station I admit I jumped at the chance. Like I told Beckett, the station can always use the good press, but it was more than that. Time had passed, and I was curious what would happen if Beckett and Castle were thrown together again.

After all, I'd heard through the grapevine that he was far from giving up on her.

Beckett pretended to be above the whole thing, that his presence at the station didn't matter to her one way or another. But I don't think anyone was buying the act. She was still hurt, and angry. And don't get me wrong, she deserved some grovelling and an apology. I was just providing an opportunity for Castle to give one. After all, he couldn't make it up to her if she refused to speak to him.

And in the end Castle and Beckett were reunited thanks to his book. Almost ironic that the partnership would almost be broken again at another event for the damn thing.

Things were getting back to normal. A few weeks into Castle's return Beckett was baiting him and teasing him just like she'd done before. Seemed like no harm no foul.

Then came the Heat Wave launch party and the second book deal.

That was the closest to vulnerable I'd ever seen the good Detective, aside from circumstances surrounding her mother of course. She originally looked irritated when she realized Castle would probably be shadowing her for future Nikki Heat novels. But then again, she almost always looked irritated around Castle. No reason for her to stop now. Wouldn't want the man to think she liked havin' him around.

I'd heard it whispered around the station that Castle'd been offered another book deal to write "a certain British spy." And nobody was quite sure how Beckett felt about it. She looked like she didn't care, but I'd learned a while ago that the woman was awfully good at hiding what she was thinking.

The truth came out at the party though. Beckett walked in looking lovely if a bit out of her element, so I headed over to say hello. _Plus_ I wanted to tell her about the dedication. Castle may have been a bit of a thorn in her side, but even she'd have to admit that was a nice touch.

Yeah, nice touch lasted maybe ten seconds. After that they were sniping at each other before storming off in different directions. Now I understand pride as much as the next person, but it wouldn't 'a been the worst thing in the world if someone had just walked up and knocked their heads together a couple of times is all I'm sayin'.

Now, I've gotten to know Kate Beckett pretty well, and I know she's one hell of a strong woman. But even the strongest woman isn't gonna be thrilled by a rejection. It must have been one helluva blow to her ego when it looked like Castle was going to decide James Bond was more exciting than Nikki Heat. And while she was often at her most confident around Castle (usually when she was trying to smack him down) he also had a rather unique ability to make her feel insecure and vulnerable. A vulnerability which she decided to protect with everything she had in her.

I really thought it was gonna be the end of Castle following her around.

But I guess we all underestimated other people's interest in Nikki Heat. Not that I can't say I don't understand. If she and Jamieson Rook are half as entertaining as their respective sources of inspiration I can't blame people for wanting to read the rest of their story.

xxxxx

After the three book deal was finalized, and it became clear that Castle was almost certainly going to be around for a while, things seemed to settle back down between Beckett and Castle. Neither of them said anything, but any fool could see that they were both relieved Castle had been given an excuse not to abandon Nikki.

Still, after their abysmal performance at the book launch, I figured the pair of them'd never get a clue.

Hell, even the appearance of Castle's former girlfriend couldn't provoke anything more than the slightest amount of jealousy in Beckett. At least the cases were going smoothly. Writer and muse were starting to work really well together.

But I didn't realize how close they'd gotten until tragedy struck.

Beckett's mother's killer resurfaced to punch her in the gut. Needless to say she didn't take it well. She stormed out of the precinct, and we all figured that was that.

We all underestimated her.

That evening she showed up at Castle's, ready to catch the bastard. And that was when everyone got an idea of just how much she meant to him, and how far he'd risen in her trust.

Even after she had to shoot her only link to her mother's killer to save the writer she didn't hold it against him. In fact, it seemed to bring them closer.

Still, I decided I'd better check in with her the next morning.

She showed up at my office, bright and early as usual to give me all of her paperwork.

"How're you holding up Detective?" I couldn't help asking. "If you need time…"

"You know sir," Beckett told me as she cocked her head. "I think I'm actually surprisingly okay with it all."

Her delivery was actually pretty convincing. Still, as I'd told her earlier, she'd just been sucker-punched by her mother's death. That's got to be hard to process for anyone. "Can't have been easy though, shooting your mother's killer like that," I pointed out.

"No," Beckett admitted with a shake of her head. "And I wanted to thank you sir. You know, for putting down your gun when I asked. I know it's not procedure…"

But I waved that off. "Hey Beckett, you know we look after our own around."

"Yeah," she said softly.

"Besides, it didn't matter in the end. When push came to shove you shot the bastard yourself." Even I'd been a bit shocked by that. But then again, she was a good cop, and certain things just became habit after enough years on the job.

Beckett dipped her head briefly before looking up again with a half smile on her face. "Yeah... well... couldn't let him shoot Castle, even if our resident author did sign the damn waiver. Would've been one hell a mess."

I smiled slightly at her attempt at a joke. But her deflection notwithstanding, she'd shot her best lead to her mother's killer to save a man she'd barely been able to tolerate when they'd first met. Castle was a lucky guy. And the 12th was lucky to have her. We'd stand by her, and together we'd solve her mother's case. She was one of us, and if anyone could find the guy it was her. I nodded, "Yeah. And don't worry Beckett, we'll solve this one eventually. Despite the setback."

"I know," she said decisively.

I looked at her closely then, somewhat surprised at her certainty. I was even more surprised when she grinned suddenly.

"Hey, at least I know what happened now," Beckett added with a shrug of her shoulders. "I've always hated the 'random gang violence theory,' and that's pretty much been tossed out the window. Besides, no way in hell was Rathbourne the only link to her real killer. I'll find the others. Sure this was a bit of a setback. But, like Castle would say, every good mystery needs a few twists and turns, maybe a major obstacle or two, for the heroine to overcome."

"And you've decided you're the heroine?" I asked impressed.

Her smile widened. "Haven't you heard sir?" she asked. "I've got a series of books being written about me and everything."

I laughed and waved her out of my office, watching as Castle showed up at her elbow with a mug of coffee in his hand, his eyes watching her every move carefully. She took the coffee with a grateful smile and said something that made him smile back at her. The last couple of days could have torn them apart, but instead it had been just the opposite. In fact, saving his life for the umpteenth time seemed to have forced Beckett to let down her guard just a little and admit to herself that she enjoyed his company.

Theirs was a partnership that shouldn't work, as well as it did. She'd always been an amazing cop. But with Castle around she was really coming into her own. Now all that was left was for her to realize exactly what that could mean for her, and not just at the precinct.

xxxxx

TBC (with Martha on her son)


	10. Martha on her Son

A/N: (pokes head out) I know, I know. I'm sorry. This chapter took an almost inexcusably long time. But my Castle muse got roughly maimed by the finale and was only recently resuscitated. Here we go, Martha on her Son. The last of the character chapters. There is still an epilogue to go. Not entirely sure when it'll be up. I would hope it would be soon, but I make no promises, mainly because every time I do it inevitably takes months. I don't want to jinx it.

I hope you enjoy. And I apologize again for the delay.

xxxxx

Martha on her Son

xxxxx

As a mother I've only ever wanted what was best for my son.

Some (probably him included) might say I didn't do the best of jobs, but what can you do? You can't please everyone, so no point in even trying. And nobody's perfect, though some people have told me I've given performances on stage that have come close. Of course in the theatre a performance only has to be sustained for a few hours. Three hours of perfection is do-able, a lifetime? Well… let's just say I did my best.

Besides, I don't think I was too shabby. I made my mistakes, all parents do. But in the end Richard turned out alright, and I have a lovely granddaughter as part of the bargain. Not every grandparent can say that; especially if you happen to be, well, of an artistic temperament shall we say.

My son was half-raised backstage in the theatre. Not the most usual of upbringings, but it could have been worse. He was healthy and happy and it gave him a love of theatrics and a love of storytelling. Besides, he was always a bit of a favourite among the cast. One flash of that smile of his, a little bit of the Castle (or more technically at that point, the Reynolds) charm and he could talk his way out of anything.

Ah yes, the lessons in charm that he learned backstage at the theatre have gotten him out of trouble more than once. And in hindsight, it was probably an excellent training ground for the life he's chosen. Although I suppose one could debate which was cause and what was effect there. Ah well. Too late to worry about all that now. It's unimportant. He is where he is.

And Richard got there with a minimal amount of trouble all things considered. Yes, there was the odd blip, a few minor arrests, but nothing ever stuck. He's always been good at weaselling his way out of scrapes.

There was that time in the fifth grade that he almost killed his class' pet turtle. He managed to get out of the fiasco with only an hour of detention by convincing the science teacher that he'd strapped the turtle to a makeshift parachute for _educational _purposes, something about testing the laws of aerodynamics. Or the time when he was about eight years old and got caught sneaking candy from a store. His mischievous, but somehow also penitent smile managed to convince the sales clerk not only to forget the whole thing but to gift him with an extra lollipop. And don't even get me started about Richard Castle: The Teenage Years… Really, he's lucky I'm as sane as I am.

At least now he generally gets himself out of his more legal woes. Or rather, his high profile contacts get him out of them.

Sometimes it's just the fact that he has such a recognizable name; everyone knows who he is. It'd be more trouble than it's worth to bother pursuing an arrest, and the cops all know it.

I'm fairly certain that's what happened when Detective Beckett arrested him.

I admit I had a hand in helping the Detective locate my son for his arrest. What can I say? He deserved to face her wrath, and his crime was nothing serious (though it seldom was). Besides, that boy needs to learn a little bit more about consequences. Sometimes he's just a touch too glib if you ask me.

Of course, other than a few hours in a holding cell, nothing much happened to him. On the other hand, I did get to meet the lovely Detective. We had a couple of conversations, over the phone and at the precinct. She seemed like a sensible woman. Strong, smart, fair, dedicated to her job. What's not to like? She even had a bit of a sense of humour.

In the end she did compromise like all the others. Richard wasn't going to be sent to trial. But I think that was a product of a couple things, one her boss didn't want the aggravation of arresting a minor celebrity and two, she didn't actually want to see my son in jail, she just wanted him to go away. Which is a sentiment I can understand sometimes. Richard can be a bit trying on the nerves.

As evidenced by the fact that, despite agreeing to her deal, I don't think he ever had any intention of leaving her alone. My son may sometimes be flippant and glib, but he's also stubborn and very tenacious. Once he gets an idea in his head it'll take more than a few pesky legalities to get him to leave it alone. I knew before we even got back to the apartment that there was no way my son was letting the case go. So did his daughter.

It's a wonder he wasn't arrested again by the end of the week.

But, what happened was quite the opposite. Not only was he not arrested, he was inspired. When I heard the tapping of keys coming from the office well into the early hours of the morning I knew something was up. His late afternoon return to the apartment grinning like the proverbial cat it just confirmed it. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd been intrigued and impressed by Detective Beckett. My son was fascinated. He'd decided she was the perfect protagonist for a new set of novels. I shook my head. This could be a disaster.

Originally I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing. After all, no mother wants her baby boy running after dangerous criminals all day. Even if you know you can't protect your children from everything, a parent still wants too. And this _was_ dangerous. I give thanks periodically to any god that might be out there that Richard hasn't managed to get himself seriously hurt with this new hobby of his. At least I had the comfort of knowing that if anybody could keep him safe it'd be Detective Beckett, if my son's description of the woman was anything to go by.

His interest in her certainly didn't seem to be a passing fancy. For weeks I was hearing all about the Detective and her many virtues.

He told me Detective Beckett was awesome. He loved the visual of the young, hot woman bringing down men twice her size. When she slammed a suspect into a car, or a wall, or even the odd time a dumpster she didn't even flinch. And she was smart. He loved the way she'd stand around mulling things over. She had the highest closed case rate in the department. He talked about her dedication, her sense of humour, and he even mentioned her attractiveness, once or twice… a day. In Richard's eyes the woman was almost infallible.

If even half the things he told me about her were true then I knew I didn't have as much to worry about, at least when it came to his physical safety.

Not that he realized how much he talked about her, how frequently her name just happened to crop up in his conversation. I don't think he ever did. I'm sure if I'd asked him he'd just explain that he spent several hours a day with the woman, it was only natural for him to talk about her. Which was true in its way I suppose.

Except for the fact that most of the women he actually dated barely got more than a cursory mention over breakfast (or occasionally lunch) the next day.

But then again, the Detective wasn't most women. She had substance. Katherine Beckett had all the usual attractions for my son, beautiful, quick with words, a certain amount of charm. But she had something else on top of it all. And I think that, in part, is what drew him to her, though I doubted he realized it.

Naturally I wanted to see more of the woman. I was curious, so sue me. I'm his mother; it's my god-given right to push my nose in his affairs. And one meeting and a very short telephone conversation isn't nearly enough time to get a good idea of who a person is.

Besides, I only ever heard his side of the relationship. Who knew what Detective Beckett thought about the affair? I doubted she'd been pleased when she heard she'd be getting a semi-permanent shadow following her around all day. Richard seemed to think she was coming around, but, bless his heart, my son's always been confident in his own powers of persuasion. I'm not sure it even occurred to him that he might not be able to win him over.

If the Detective was as dedicated to her job as he claimed she was then it was entirely possible that she was merely tolerating his presence on order from her boss and the mayor, nothing more. And I knew my son would be crushed if that turned out to be the case. I didn't think it was obviously. My son might have an inflated sense of his own charms, but he was also reasonably perceptive. Besides, when it came right down to it he _was_ charming. It was unlikely that Detective Beckett despised the sight of him.

Still, it'd be nice to have that confirmed.

My wished for confirmation came soon enough.

Alexis and I have a longstanding tradition of attending all of Richard's local book readings. I do what I can to keep his ego in check, but as an artist I also know the terror of putting something new out there for the first time. So I also try to provide moral support. What can I say? Being a mother's always a bit of a balancing act.

And the first reading of one of his new books is always fun. There's a sense of anticipation, will the public like it, and will the book sell? I suppose with the last ever Derrick Storm novel there never was much worry on that front. After all, even casual readers will want to find out how the story ends. It's human nature.

Still, good opening numbers along with a reading packed with pleased fans is nothing to sneeze at. After talking briefly to a few fans to confirm that people liked the book, Alexis and I rushed over to Richard to see how he was taking the good news.

Unsurprisingly we found him sparring with an attractive woman in the crowd. I don't begrudge him his ability to zoom in on the most attractive woman in whatever room he happens to be in. With my past relationships I'm hardly one to talk, and everyone deserves to have a little fun. And Richard was obviously quite pleased with his current companion. On the other hand, I was surprised when I realized that I recognized her.

Detective Beckett had shown up at my son's book reading dressed to kill.

She'd apparently decided to get a little payback, try and rattle him as much as he rattled her. I have to say, I didn't care one way or the other which one of them was ahead on that score. What mattered more was that she'd initiated this round. The woman wasn't simply tolerating his presence. She'd moved on to playing his games. Richard was still probably more invested in her than she was in him, but at the very least whatever was going on between them wasn't completely one-sided.

That's when I decided that it wasn't fair that the two of them got to have all the fun. So I casually slipped the name of Richard's brand new female protagonist into the conversation.

Nikki Heat.

The woman reacted exactly as I'd expected her to. As most women would really. Make as many arguments as you want about prostitutes holding a sort of sexual power, no smart, strong, sensible woman wants to be associated with a name which, as the detective correctly pointed out, sounds more like it belongs to someone who should be wearing handcuffs, not slapping them on other people.

She went on the offensive, her target, my son.

Richard even took the precaution of putting a large cardboard cut-out of himself between him and his attacker. I dragged Alexis away so that we could watch from a safer distance.

Alexis wanted to hear what they had to say, but I've always believed that actions speak louder than words myself. The two of them circled around and around each other for a good five minutes, ridiculous cut-out still between them.

"I take it this means accidentally calling you Nikki in the middle of the station house would be a bad idea," Richard called after her as she turned to leave the room, in the process leaving him on his own.

She whipped around. "Castle," she snapped. "You ever call me Nikki Heat, either at the station or anywhere else, and you're going to end up looking at the business end of my gun."

He grinned, "I always forget that you're, wait for it, _Packing Heat_." His smirk widened as she whipped around a second time. "See Detective, the name's even more appropriate than even I thought. Or are you worried that you won't be able to keep up with your alter ego?"

To my utter shock instead of getting angry the Detective grinned back. Of course her grin wasn't exactly friendly. "As long as you're writing her I don't think I've got anything to worry about," Detective Beckett returned easily. Then she whirled around on her nearly deadly heels and stalked passed us. Sending Alexis and me a friendly smile as she passed, "Lovely seeing you again Martha, Alexis," she said before she sailed out the door.

The two of us turned back to my son who was now grinning inanely. "See you bright and early tomorrow!" he called. "I'll even bring you a latte, just the way you like it," he promised.

Beckett turned back at the door. "Don't try and make up with me Castle," she told him. "I'm not telling you wild stories about my past." Then she turned to leave a second time before changing her mind. "I still want that latte though," she called back over her shoulder.

Alexis and I spun on our heels back towards Richard.

"And you thought she didn't like me," he said, obviously pleased. Then he paused, "I wonder if she really does have wild stories about her past..."

I shook my head slightly.

She _did_ like him. Would wonders never cease? As I watched my son being to mingle with the rest of the book-signing crowd I realized something else. He'd been unbelievably pleased to see her, and not just because the pink dress she'd been wearing had given him an excuse to ogle her legs. Like I said, my son was reasonably perceptive. He had to know what her showing up in his territory had implied.

He was making headway.

Actually, he made headway faster than I'd expected him to.

A few weeks later in the middle of a difficult case Detective Beckett initiated contact a second time. And this time she showed up at the apartment, though she did look a bit confused, a little bit out of place. Richard had mentioned that the case wasn't going well and that Beckett was taking it particularly badly. It was the first time I'd heard him say anything about his lovely muse that even remotely suggested she was struggling, so I admit I was intrigued from the start. Obviously I was never under the impression that woman was immortal, not like Richard seemed to be, but I knew she was extremely good at her job.

I was excited for him when she came to him for help. She'd never have said it out loud, but it was clear that's what it was. And Richard was only too happy to help her. It was about time that he started showing the lovely detective his more serious side. I'd heard about him bouncing around her, watching her, demanding her attention, and a couple of times I'd seen it firsthand. But I knew that wasn't all there was to my son.

And if he was going to get anywhere with that woman, she needed to see that there was more to him than just his charming public image.

What I hadn't been prepared for was his appearance later that evening. He'd moved right past serious. In fact, he was positively sombre when he walked through the door.

I was sitting in the living room, but I'm not sure he saw me. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it. It was obvious something else was weighing on his mind.

"Richard," I asked gently.

"Hmm?" he said as he looked up.

"Did the case not go well?" I asked softly. If it hadn't he might need to talk about it. Richard was learning the hard way that actually shadowing a police officer was a lot different than just writing about crime.

"We got the guy," he whispered. "Figured out who committed both murders actually."

"Well that's good, isn't it?" I asked slowly. I wondered what was bothering him if they'd been so successful.

"Generally that's a good thing," he admitted. "Of course, this time one of our killers is already dead and the other's a grandfather who killed the man who killed his only daughter. He's also a big part of the only stable home left for his grandchildren. And Beckett had to arrest him," Richard explained.

I winced. "That couldn't have been pleasant. She couldn't just I don't know, leave things alone…" I started to suggest. I believe in the law, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it doesn't exactly seem, well, fair.

He shook his head, "Apparently in real life they don't get to make that decision."

"Ah," I said. Obviously the two of them had already had this discussion. Oh the many advantages of fiction, the author gets to pick the ending. But I noticed he still looked down. "Is there something else?" I asked tentatively.

To my surprise Richard poured himself a drink, whiskey. Oh, this wasn't good. "Her mother," he told me.

"Is she alright, is something wrong?" I asked. I sincerely hoped not. Losing a parent was never easy. I felt for Detective Beckett if something had happened.

"She was murdered," he replied bluntly as he gulped down the entire glass of whiskey.

Oh god.

"It was years ago," Richard was explaining. "Never solved," he added. "Part of the reason Beckett hates unsolved cases so much. Also part of the reason she does what she does at all."

"A very noble calling," I murmured. "I'm sure that half the police force doesn't have nearly as good a reason to be there."

"Yeah," he said absently. I knew he wasn't really paying attention to me. He was still lost in his thoughts… "I mean, I _knew_ already that she'd lost someone. You could tell. And it made sense. But hearing her say it…"

"It probably wasn't exactly easy for her to tell you," I pointed out. I was surprised that she had to be honest. But what almost surprised me more was how upset _he _was. And he was clearly very upset. He was just staring at the wall. "Are you okay?" I asked after a moment.

"Yeah," he said again. "It's just, she really didn't deserve that you know? It doesn't seem fair. She's a good person. Actually, she's a _really_ good person."

"Life's not fair," I reminded him. "And if you think about it, if her mother hadn't been killed then she wouldn't have ever become a cop. Think of how many criminals might not have been caught. Not to mention you probably would never have met her."

"I think she'd have preferred her mother still alive and being blissfully ignorant of my existence," he said dryly. "Come to think of it, I think _I_ prefer that. Not because I don't want to know her obviously..."

"I know what you mean dear," I told him softly. Behind all the bluster he's got a heart of gold. And he was hurting for her, really hurting. Poor soul.

"I just, I wish there was something I could do," he said. "I got Esposito to show me her mother's case file," he admitted, ignoring my shocked look. "But there's not really anything there. Not that I can see."

"Richard you can't…" I started to tell him.

"I know I shouldn't have," he said. "I just wanted to… I don't know… And anyway, like I said there's really not much to go on."

"Well, look on the bright side," I told him.

"What, that the only reason I know her is because her mother's dead?" he asked caustically.

"Don't be foolish," I said with a wave of her hand. "I meant that you get the opportunity to tell the world, well, maybe not the world, but at least the readers of English-language mysteries, how wonderful Detective Kate Beckett really is."

That seemed to reach him. After a moment he wrapped his arms around me. "Thank you mother," he whispered. "Every so often you really do have good advice."

"What do you think drew me to life-coaching?" I asked playfully.

He grinned. "Don't get me started," he muttered. "Alright, I'm going to bed," he added.

"Good night son," I replied as I watched him walk up the stairs. This was interesting. I'd known his interest in the Detective was outside the norm, but this was even more notable. He really cared about her, worried. And he'd realized she wasn't quite the wonder-woman he'd imagined. She'd let him see a chink in her armour. Instead of exploiting it, he'd tried to make her feel better, to protect. His feelings for her began to get more serious. He'd started to see her as a person, and not just as a character.

Of course, in the end it was Richard's concern for her that almost got him thrown out of her life. They'd been getting closer, becoming friends. I was seeing the Detective more and more frequently, at casual poker games or charity galas or over eggs in the kitchen. Their partnership was working, for both of them.

But Richard, as he always does, pushed just a little too far. And boy did he get burned for it.

He touched her mother's case. The fool poked his nose into old wounds that hadn't even come close to healing over. And he knew it.

I remember telling him that he had to tell her about it. He couldn't keep what he'd found from her. She deserved that.

I hoped it didn't mean that he lost her forever.

Not before he had a chance to realize exactly what she meant to him.

That day I hovered around the apartment, making sure I was available if (when?) my son needed me. A few hours after he left to find her, Richard was back. And their conversation obviously hadn't gone well.

I walked into the kitchen, leaned against the counter and waited. I didn't say anything. What was there to say? The set of his shoulders told the whole story. He hadn't been forgiven. Detective Beckett had done exactly what she'd promised she would if he touched her mother's case. She threw him out.

My son met my eyes. All I could see was pain and guilt. I sighed. It was even worse than I thought. I walked over to him and put my arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry Kiddo," I whispered into his ear. A second later I felt his arms wrap around my waist.

Then suddenly he was gone. He'd taken two steps back, and he was gazing off to the side.

My heart broke for him. My poor boy. Always joking, laughing, deflecting. Never wanting people to see when he was hurting. Keeping people from getting too close. Somehow she'd gotten close.

Then she'd shut him out when he got too close to her.

"You need to give her time," I told him softly. "She probably needs time to process. Just let her be for a while. Maybe she'll come around. You never know."

He let out a huff of derision. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered. "But I doubt it," he admitted. "When I told her what I'd done she looked like she'd been slapped."

I winced. "She was surprised," I reminded him.

"She physically took a step back from me Mother!" he told me angrily. "Kate Beckett physically recoiled because of something I did," he explained. "That woman goes toe to toe with dangerous criminals on a daily basis and she doesn't even flinch, but me she backs away from. I did something that made her do _that_." He sighed and dropped his head in his hands.

I could understand why her reaction had frazzled him. I certainly wouldn't want to watch someone I cared about step away from me either. But Kate Beckett wasn't the woman I thought she was if she was incapable of forgiveness. It'd just take some time. Also, he'd eventually need to do something to fix it. "Well," I said, trying to brighten the conversation a little. "You were expecting her to do what she did weren't you?" I reminded him. "You knew it would happen."

"Yeah, but knowing it would happen and having her actually say the words 'we're through' are two very different things mother," Richard told me sarcastically.

I ignored his tone because I knew how much he was really hurt by this. "So, then what are you going to do about it?" I asked.

"Do?" he asked in confusion.

"To get her to forgive you," I explained as if it was obvious. "Obviously you need to give her some space for now, maybe wait a while before making your next move. Let her come to terms. It'll give you time to plan your approach."

"My approach?" he repeated in confusion.

"Well Richard, you're not really planning on just letting her go are you?" I asked him in exaggerated surprise. He blinked at me. "Richard really," I said in exasperation, and mainly for effect. "You made a mistake. People are forgiving. It might take some time, but you might be able to get her to forgive you, if you want. Of course you'll have to work at it, which I know will be a bit of a change for you," I told him dryly.

But my mild putdown washed off him like water off a duck's back. He was already perking up. "Yeah," he said, a bit of the old fire returning. "You're right. Of course you are, I just have to figure out something that'll... I mean, I know what I did was wrong, but I had good intentions. That's got to count for something right?"

"Sure," I told him easily, pleased that he was no longer looking like someone had fired him, stolen his puppy, run over him with a car, then pushed him into a ditch and left him to die.

"Right," He agreed happily. "I need a plan. Thank you mother," he said giving me a kiss on the cheek before heading towards his study.

"You're welcome!" I called after him.

He spun around when he got to the door. "Do you really think she'll forgive me?" he asked hesitantly.

I grinned affectionately at the rare show of insecurity. "Of course I do darling," I told him. "But you'll have to prove to her how much you want her to, how important she is."

"Right," he said with a nod before he shut the door.

I watched him go, shaking my head. I knew he cared about her, but I hadn't quite expected him to be this broken, though now that I think about it I'm not sure why not. His feelings for her had been growing steadily practically since the day he'd met her. And I already knew she was different than most of the women in his life. I wondered just how much he cared about her, and I wondered if even he knew. Hopefully this little experience would give him an idea of what exactly she meant to him. Richard Castle may have been down, but he hadn't quite given up yet. Now it all depended on whether Detective Beckett could find it in herself to be understanding.

Luckily she did. She forgave him. Turned out all he had to do was apologize and mean it, which was obviously the last thing he thought of doing. In the end he only thought of it because of his daughter. Really, if I'd thought Richard needed to be _told_ to apologize I'd have ordered him to months ago. It could have saved us all a lot of heartache.

Ah well, all's well that ends well I suppose.

At least his friendship with the Detective seemed to be back on track. There was a period of awkwardness obviously but soon Richard was trailing around after her again, happy as a clam. Alexis and I were once again being regaled almost daily with stories about how cool Detectives Ryan and Eposito were, about the antics they all got up to at the precinct. About wagers and games, during which he almost always allied himself with the lovely Detective Beckett. Unless of course he was the one she was toying with. If that was the case he wasn't upset, more impressed whenever she managed to pull it off. He pushed her all the time and he was never so happy as when she pushed back.

I began to wonder if there was anything she could do that would actually make him genuinely irritated with her.

Clearly I was tempting fate.

He got that damn offer to write about "A certain British Spy..." Alright, I know I'm being unfair. I know how much he loved those stories, how much it meant to Richard to get that offer. But really, my son was an artist. Why should he settle for working with someone else's characters (no matter how wonderful) when he could create his own?

So I tried a little reverse psychology. Told him Beckett would be thrilled he was leaving, that if he got the offer it was a big deal. And I tried to keep some of the sarcasm out of my voice when I told him he had every reason to be excited. After all, his cockiness was wearing on my nerves. Besides, I was fairly certain he hadn't thought it through and I thought I could make him realize how much he enjoyed what he was doing now.

Originally I thought my plan was working. He refused to commit himself to the other potential offer.

Then he got the offer, heard about it at the launch party for Nikki Heat. But after the party was over, instead of being ecstatic because he'd gotten what basically amounted to his dream job, he was a bit like a bear being poked with a stick. Didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on there. Our resident mystery author had had a tiff with his muse. And unless I was very much mistaken it was right in the centre of the party, in front of the lovely display of the new copies of Heat Wave.

Now, let me just say that I'm a woman, I understood where Detective Beckett is coming from. The poor girl was probably feeling threatened, maybe even a little bit like she'd been rejected, and her insecurities probably caused her to lash out at my son. After all, _heaven forbid_ that either of them ever actually _tell_ the other what they're thinking let alone sit down and have an actual conversation about anything! No, I tried to understand her point of view, really I did.

But she'd wounded my baby. And unlike last time she'd hurt him, this time he'd really done nothing to deserve it, apart from being irritatingly excited about some good news. After all, Richard had dedicated his book to her. I'd read the dedication that night. Alexis had read the dedication that night. Both our eyes had widened into saucers when we did. "To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th." It was the closest thing to a statement of how he felt that Richard was going to get, at least any time soon. And she lashed out at him five minutes after she read it.

I was put out for a good twenty-four hours about the whole thing.

Not that Richard was blameless of course. If he'd ever just told her that he absolutely adored her I'm sure the problem would have been resolved. But he didn't.

And he was hurting. I knew my son, and I knew he didn't like it when people were angry with him. Always wanted everybody to love him. It's half the reason he acts the way he does. And he'd been desperate for her approval. She didn't give it to him. My anger really only began to let up when I realized that the only reason Detective Beckett gotten so angry in the first place was because she didn't want him to go. Well, that and I suspect the Detective was frustrated with herself for not being able to tell him how she really felt, and probably with him for not just throwing her up against the nearest flat surface and kissing her senseless.

Or maybe I was the one who was frustrated with him for not doing that last one.

What? It probably would have been better all around.

As it was, the solution came from the fact that the public was as fascinated by their fictional relationship as I was by their actual one. Nikki Heat sold well. Really well. Plus the mayor was doing badly in the polls. So Richard had a financial excuse, and Detective Beckett had a political one to continue their partnership.

To my surprise Richard pranced into the apartment the day after the release party without a care in the world, babbling on about their latest case. Apparently someone had been found decapitated in a hotel suite, head unaccounted for. From the way he was acting it was like the opportunity to write about one of his all-time favourite characters had just slipped his mind.

"I thought you were done shadowing Detective Beckett," I said dryly as soon as he paused in his exuberant explanation of the case. "Why the new case?"

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Right. Well, apparently Nikki Heat sold so well that I got offered a _three book deal_ for even more money than the other thing, so I figured why the hell not?"

I understood his vastly improved mood all too well then. "And what does Detective Beckett think?" I asked in amusement.

"She was a little irritated at first," he admitted. "But the mayor's on side, and the commissioner, and Captain Montgomery, so she agreed pretty quickly," he told me. "She'll get over it."

"And a certain British spy?" I asked.

But he waved that off. "Yeah, that would have been cool, he admitted. "But come on, this is way cooler. Nikki's an awesome character. Any writer'd kill to have one as good. Plus, this way I'm writing my own character. I wasn't sure I was done with Nikki anyway, but then when Beckett got so annoyed about the possibility of more books and I got the other official offer I figured, why not switch gears? But she's on board now, and I get more money. Everybody wins," Richard said cheerfully.

"Even Beckett?" I prodded.

He paused again. "She did get irritated," he admitted. "But she got over it pretty quick when she got called to another murder. She even asked me if I was coming with her, which is basically Beckett code for 'I'm annoyed with you, but I'm also kind of okay with it and you can keep shadowing me around.' At least I think it is. _And_ before I even got the offer to do more Nikki Heat stuff she told me that she couldn't have solved the last case without me," he added, his chest puffed out in pride.

"Did she?" I asked, still amused. Well that settled it. Telling Richard to his face that he'd helped her solve a murder was an obvious Kate Beckett seal of approval, and he knew it. Basically it was as close as she'd ever come to telling him that she'd miss him when he was gone, and that she liked him. That coupled with the fact that she'd apparently only put up a token resistance to the idea of him sticking around clinched it. I figured the lovely detective may have wanted my son to stay in her life as much as he did himself.

Lord knows what would have happened without the convenient excuse of Heat Wave's success though. I suspect that the world would have had two more very unhappy people.

The two of them settled back into their status quo remarkably well. I eventually gave up hoping anything would knock them out of it. After all, he'd almost left and it hadn't changed a thing.

At least they were both happy.

And my son's stories about the lovely Detective started up again. Plus the Detective herself started popping up. She came to his Halloween party, then to a concert with the family, then Alexis started asking her for advice, and developed a bit of a case of hero worship.

Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree on that one.

Alexis interned for a week at the precinct. I told her she should have gone with the firefighters, but everyone knew that as soon as she found out that the NYPD was one of the options, that was the one she'd pick. By all accounts Beckett was lovely to her. Alexis was gushing about how understanding the Detective had been, how Beckett had given my granddaughter her own little project and even helped her solve it. It was really very sweet how pleased Alexis had been. Not that her father was much better.

I got to hear all about how great Beckett had been with Alexis. How the woman just seemed to get people. And of course Dad was awfully pleased when the Detective made his little girl feel important, that her contribution had mattered.

I just wondered if he realized that he'd given the woman more access to his daughter than anyone since wife #2. Actually, I think Alexis _liked_ Beckett more than she'd ever liked her stepmother.

Someone really should have whacked both of them upside the head with a blunt object. Just to knock some sense into them.

But I didn't dare to.

They were great together, but after the near catastrophe at the Heat Wave release party I couldn't help feeling like even the slightest little push could have them running away from each other faster than magnets that'd been flipped the wrong way.

It sounds ridiculous, but, Kyra Blaine almost did it.

When that woman drifted back into Richard's life I almost had a heart attack. Not because I didn't like her. I did. She was a lovely woman. But she was engaged to another man, and she'd already broken my son's heart once. The last thing either of them needed was to get involved in each other's lives. Especially since I rather doubted she was going to leave her fiancé, meaning that Richard would end up heartbroken and alone. Again.

And the last time that had happened he'd married Meredith.

To say I wasn't anxious for a repeat of that would be an understatement.

But in the end Richard just got closure. He seemed calm about the whole thing when I saw him. Plus there were no repercussions with Detective Beckett either. Apparently she hadn't batted an eye over the entire affair. Well, other than a reasonably minor scolding.

It would seem that even an old flame couldn't push the two of them together. I nearly gave up hope.

Then her mother's killer resurfaced and she shot the man who could provide her with some information to save my Richard. He was devastated about what he'd cost her. He'd been so determined to help her. In fact, he'd even confided in me that he planned to stop shadowing her. For _her _benefit. Luckily my son had learned from his mistakes and he asked her what she wanted before he did anything stupid.

She asked him to stay.

And I began to hope again.

My hope that was momentarily dashed when he became obsessed with that stupid list of New York's hottest bachelors. Not only did he panic about being romantically tied to his lovely Detective (as if the idea was completely _ludicrous_) he even went on date with one of the Bachelorettes. The date was an utter train wreck obviously. Then Alexis told me that in fact her father had spent the most of his evening with Detective Beckett. Over burgers.

And I wondered if he'd finally gotten a clue.

I watched him closely. When he talked about her his eyes seemed brighter, his expression softer. They'd weathered a lot together and he knew her well now.

I think he even knew she was special, though I'm not convinced he knew exactly how special.

I'd watched him dance around with women for years, very few of them serious. Now here was one who'd stuck around for over a year, who liked to tease him as much as he teased her, who wanted him in her life, who knew his daughter, who'd gotten him to put her interests before her own. He'd finally gotten well and truly caught by a real woman for the first time since Kyra Blaine. He wanted her (and he might even know it), but she was still pushing him away. But he always chased her. Always. I wondered if he knew what the almost inevitable destination would be. Because though he'd spent most of his adult life chasing after and charming women, she was by far the best.

And I wondered if he knew the real reason he was peeling back the layers to the Beckett onion as he called it. Or if he'd even acknowledged it to himself yet.

Call me crazy, but part of me thinks he might have.

xxxxx

TBC


	11. Epilogue

A/N: Turns out this didn't take as long as I feared. What? You needn't all look so shocked. I never said it was going to be a _long _epilogue. Just that there was going to be one. Anyway, here we go. Here it is. Hope you enjoy it. And thank you to everyone who enjoyed the story and who reviewed. You're all lovely. Oh, and thank you to MK who offered to send my muse hot fudge sundaes. Probably not necessary in this case (for some reason I knew it wasn't going to necessary for the epilogue), but feel free to send 'em anyway. I hope the end works for you guys. I quite like it. And I also kind of like working in a universe that doesn't go beyond the middle of S2. Oh, and it is a different format from the rest of the chapters. 'Tis why it's an epilogue and not a chapter.

xxxxx

Epilogue

xxxxx

Obviously they knew people watched them. How could they not? Neither of them was stupid. But just because people watched and wondered didn't mean either of them had to acknowledge the fact, or even change their behaviour because of it.

After all, it was no one else's business anyway.

And besides, if they admitted to each other that people were watching them then they'd probably _also _have to admit that there might be a reason for all the attention.

That could be dangerous.

Danger was to be avoided.

When she was being honest with herself, usually late at night when she was reading one of his books, or remembering something that he'd done to make her laugh, Kate almost admitted that there might be something there. _Something_ was never defined of course. Like an admission, a definition meant she might have to actually _take_ _action_.

And sometimes when Castle was writing in his office, trying to plot out what Nikki would do in a particular situation, and trying to remind himself that though there were obvious (and unavoidable) similarities, Nikki Heat was _not _Kate Beckett so if he rewrote something she'd done at the precinct earlier that day into his novel verbatim she'd kill him, no matter how awesome it'd been. Castle tried to pretend that he didn't wish she was nearby so he could ask her opinion of the matter. And maybe, while she was at it, she'd give her opinions on other matters as well. Because he wanted to know what she thought about any number of things, most of them unrelated to his book, though he refused to think about the whys and wherefores of that too deeply.

As long as neither of them thought too hard they could just be Castle and Beckett without a label.

And it was remarkably easy to be just Castle and Beckett at the precinct. At the precinct there was structure and unwritten rules, for protection.

So while Kate occasionally admitted to herself in her room late at night that she genuinely liked having Castle around, that she was flattered by the attention, that she secretly loved that she _was_ Nikki Heat (well, sort of), she'd never tell him. And if she sometimes grinned to herself like an idiot because her favourite author had chosen _her_ as the inspiration for an entire _series_ of novels, that was fine too as long as nobody knew. And even though she knew that half of the things Castle said to her were either exaggerations or an act to protect his image, that underneath his frivolous exterior Richard Castle was loyal and steadfast and loving and protective and a million other things no one would ever think just from looking at him... Well, most of the time she pretended that she didn't know either. She let him get away with pretending he was the shallowest man on the planet. Because that was part of the unwritten rules, the ones that prevented her from getting hurt.

In the meantime Castle let her push him away and shut him down or he deliberately provoked her, or made easy quips to play up his image as a womanizer who shouldn't be trusted. And he pretended that he didn't care when she berated him or scorned him or judged him. He pretended that the only reason he wanted to know all about her was for his book. That was the excuse after all, the party line.

They both knew sticking to the rules was important.

If they stuck to the rules Kate got her shadow, the one who made her days brighter and helped her through the tough spots. And Castle got to be the man in her life, the one she leaned on, and confided in, the one she occasionally even let protect her. Just a little bit. Because let's face it, sometimes even she got tired.

And they got to laugh together, to have fun, to enjoy their work.

Sure, the rules weren't ideal, but they meant the two of them spend time together without all the pressure. They could ignore the speculation from coworkers, the obvious bets, and the subtle winks in their direction. They could spend twelve hours straight in each other's company and no one batted an eye.

They got to know each other. Even as they pretended not to.

Richard Castle walked over to his lovely muse's desk carrying two cups of coffee. He set one down next to the Detective who was still poring over something or other in a file, and sat down across from her taking a sip out of the other one. "You looked like you could use a refill," he told her when she looked up.

Kate Beckett glanced over at the steaming coffee, biting her lip slightly to stop the full-blown smile from blossoming onto her face. Instead she sent the man sitting across from her the slightest of grins. "Thanks," she told him sincerely. Then she looked around. The bullpen was almost empty, and with good reason. It was almost 11 o'clock at night. Most sensible people had already left for the day. "What are you still doing here?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "You're here," he told her, as if that explained everything.

"I see," she said sceptically.

"And the case isn't closed," he added.

"No, I guess not," Kate admitted. "But..."

"Plus, how can I observe you on the job if I'm not here he to see you?" Castle asked, smoothly interrupting her objection.

Kate smirked. "Ah yes, research."

"Research," he confirmed with a nod. "Exactly."

"I sent everyone else home hours ago," Kate pointed out.

"You should know by now that I never do what I'm told Detective," Castle replied, stating the obvious. "Besides, you stayed."

She shrugged. "Something's wrong," Beckett admitted.

"I know," he said softly.

"Something doesn't fit," she added as if she hadn't heard him.

"I know," he said again.

"I don't know what it is though!" she said in frustration.

"I know," Castle said with a sigh.

She looked at him. "So?" she asked hopefully.

"So what?" he asked innocently, eyes twinkling.

"So do you have any suggestions on how to solve this since you're here anyway and you're obviously not going to leave me alone?" she asked with the required hint of irritation in her voice.

He grinned. "Of course I have a suggestion."

"Does it involve a story in which our vic is magically transported into a cheesy dime-store mystery novel?" Kate asked somewhat caustically. He deserved it. He was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking, like he agreed, like he'd do anything to help her. It was... _distracting. _So obviously she needed to distract him, and nothing did that like a blow to the ego.

Castle drew himself up a bit then, clearly insulted. "My stories are _not_ the ilk of dime-store mystery novels," he said defensively. Then he grinned, bright and suave and smooth. "As I believe you well know Detective. After all, word on the street is that your personal collection is all first editions." And one of these days he vowed to find out the facts behind that particular story himself. At the moment he was content to savour the anticipation, certain that the eventual payoff would be worth it.

She ignored that, "What's your plan Castle?" she asked him dryly. "What can you do that I haven't been doing all night?"

"I thought we could go over it together," he admitted, pleased when her eyes brightened at the suggestion. "If you're nice to me of course," he added.

"And if I'm not nice to you?" she wondered. After all, she could hardly admit that she was glad to see him. That she sometimes got lonely working late all by herself.

"Even better," he admitted.

Beckett let out a huff of laughter and pushed the file towards him. "Here," she said. "It's all yours. I've already been through it so many times I've practically got it memorized."

"Thanks," he said as he scanned the first few pages. "So Detective," he asked idly. "Just how _not nice_ are you planning on being? Is my safe word going to have to come into play?" He knew he probably shouldn't, but he loved to bait her. It was so much fun when she played along and she was clearly now in a better mood.

"I dunno Castle," Kate replied, leaning back into her chair. "Given how little it seems to take to make you scream out 'Apples,' I think you should tell me." She loved to tease him. He almost always reacted, and it made her feel powerful, desirable, that this man never seemed to tire of flirting with her.

He grinned, "Oh, but why just _tell_ you when it would be so much more fun to let you use a hands on approach?" he asked with a grin.

"I can give you hands on Castle," she promised him sweetly as she leaned closer. "But somehow I don't think it's going to be in the way you'd like."

"Promise?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah," she said, right before she smacked him, the unofficial signal that he'd gone too far. "Now focus on the case," she ordered. "Before I throw you out of here."

"You're a very physical woman sometimes you know," he said rubbing his head.

"I'm a cop Castle," she exclaimed. "It's in the job description."

He pouted. "Still, one of these days I might start thinking you don't like me."

"I don't like you," she confirmed.

"Ooh, that stings Detective," he said in exaggeration. "And after I brought you coffee too. But it's okay, I know how it is, you only want me for my brilliant crime-solving mind." With that he opened the file and began to study it. "Well," he amended. "That and my totally hot body."

The second smack upside the head came as no surprise.

He decided to play it safe. He studied the file for a full thirty seconds before chancing a glance in her direction.

The hint of a pleased grin on her face came as no surprise either. He smiled to himself before going back to the file. But something was wrong.

He was hungry. Obviously it was time for a midnight snack.

Before he could say anything he heard Beckett open her drawer, pull out a jumbo-sized bag of peanut M&M's, pour them into the bowl she kept in her desk drawer for that purpose and push them towards him.

He caught her eye and sent her a slight grin before he grabbed one.

Moments later she did the same.

Castle was calm as he searched for that elusive clue. He wasn't worried. Together they could work it out. They always did.

In the meantime, he was content to be where he was. So was she. Why should anything change?

They were comfortable with each other.

Happy.

There was even trust. Most of the time.

Whatever 'it' was between them, 'it' mattered too much to both of them to screw it up.

So while friends and family wondered what the hell they were both doing and why they were both being so incredibly stupid, wondered why the two of them pretended to be blissfully unaware, and when that didn't work fell back on the old standby of deny, deny, deny.

And yeah, maybe sometimes even they even wondered themselves what if… what if they threw caution to the wind?

But neither of them ever did it.

Because neither of them were quite sure, and both of them knew it.

Right now things were good. And in future? While, maybe they'd get there.

Eventually.

As to what they were at the moment though? Well, they knew _that._

They were writer and muse, Detective and tag-along. Reader of rights and writer of wrongs.

They were Castle and Beckett.

And that was enough.

For both of them.

For now.

Kate reached for an M&M and met Castle's eye across the desk a second time. He winked at her. She smacked him lightly in the arm. He smirked. She shook her head.

Whatever they were, they worked.

They were good.

And maybe someday they'd even acknowledge that they could be better.

xxxxx

The End

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Thanks to all those who stuck it out. I hope you enjoyed it. And I appreciate all the reviews, really I do.


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